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'BRING BACK MY FLOWERS."— P 



age 70. 



THE 



Fifth Reader 



BY 



/ 

LEWIS B. MONROE, 

DEAN OF BOSTON UNIVERSITY SCHOOL OF ORATORY. 




PHILADELPHIA: 
E. H. BUTLER & CO, 



\1 



38183 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S71, by 

LEWIS B. MONROE 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



fWOCOPu :h '.-gCEIVED. 




CAXTON PRESS OF 
SHERMAN & CO., PHILADELPHIA 



U.VXaVA 



*v *_ o n 



£>W 



Preface. 



PERHAPS the most important book that falls into the hands of a 
child is his School Reader. Its manifold themes tend to open 
various channels of thought ; its style of expression impresses itself 
jpon the pupil's mind, and has an influence to mold his forms of 
speech and writing; the compositions themselves are stored in his 
memory to recur a thousand times in after life, — the more dear for 
being associated with the cherished scenes of childhood ; and, most of 
all. the sentiments inculcated become inevitably a part of his moral 
consciousness. His rules of life, his springs of action in times which 
test his integrity or try his virtue, are in very many instances traceable 
to the seed which took root in his heart from the lessons in his 
School Reader. 

But these or any other desirable ends to be derived from such a 
book imply, of course, that its selections shall be of the right stamp. 
Not alone muse they inculcate wholesome truths, but they must do 
this in a genial, attractive way. We must interest the pupil in order 
to benefit him. A pitiful martyrdom is endured by teachers and 
scholars where weary hours are spent in endeavoring to make chil- 
dren comprehend abstractions fit only for the mind of a Bacon, or 
to urge them through intricacies of style which might bewilder a 
Johnson. If " wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness." as we surely 
believe, that cannot be the wisest course which proves irksome and 
repulsive. 

With these convictions, the endeavor has been made to compile a 
book which should, first of all, be pure and ennobling in its moral in- 
fluence ; and next, one which should be both profitable and enjoyable. 

An elaborate theoretical treatise, with set rules for reading, might 
have been included in the Introduction, but long experience and 
observation have convinced the compiler that such things are of little 
practical value in the school-room, and are generally unused by the 
most successful teachers. No number of abstract definitions, no 
amount of mere theory, ever changed a poor reader to a good one. 



vi PKEFACE. 

Plain common sense is, after all, the best guide. Whatever aids the 
pupil to understand a piece will help him to read it. ' Thought and 
emotion compel expression ; rules too often fetter it. Three things 
<3an be done by the teacher with advantage : give the pupils practical 
exercises to increase their command of voice ; talk with them in a 
vvay to inspire them with the spirit of what they read ; give them a 
<?ood example. The selections in the Introduction, as well as in the 
body of the book, are intended to be available for these purposes. 

Several of the pieces for reading have been written expressly for 
this book, and are protected by copyright. Thanks are due the vari- 
ous authors and publishers by whose kind permission extracts from, 
their books have been used. We are especially indebted to Messrs. 
James R. Osgood & Co. for liberty to use selections from their copy- 
right editions of the works of Whittier, Longfellow, Hawthorne, 
Trowbridge, Aldrich, and Saxe. 

L. B. M. 

Boston, June 1, 1871. 



NOTE TO TEACHERS. 

In making use of the "Exercises" in connection with the reading lessons, it 
is not expected that the pupils will always be able to supply exact synonyms. 
The purpose is rather to lead the pupil to think about what he reads, and to 
exercise his ingenuity in framing different forms of expression for the idea 
which exists in his own mind. 

These exercises may be indefinitely extended at the discretion of the teacher. 
Thus: the teacher reads a sentence and repeats the word whose sense he 
wishes the pupil to give. Teacher. " ' Hew down the bridge,' — Heio." Pupil 
"Cut down the bridge." Another. "Chop down the bridge," etc. The pupil 
is required in every instance to use his equivalent words in a complete sen- 
tence, — not simply to repeat a formal definition. 



Contents. 



P A E T I . 

PHYSICAL AND VOCAL TRAINING-. 

art. Page 

I. Position and Carriage of the Body 13 

I. Sitting Position; II. Poise forward and back; III. Position 
of Rest; IV. Position of Attention; V. Standing Position; 
VI. Poise forward and backward; VII. Holding the Book for 
reading; VIII. Speaker's Position. 

II. Development of the Chest 19 

I. Active and Passive Chest; II. Percussion of the Chest; 
III. Chest Expansion ; IV. Percussion with Arm Movements ; 
V. Shoulder Movements. — Bent Arms; VI. Breathing with 
Arm Movements ; VII. Deep Breathing. 

III. Right Use of the Voice 22 

I. Conversational Tones; II. Question and Answer; III. Famil- 
iar Narrative ; IV. Vivacious Style of Poetry. 

IV. Articulation .24 

I. Movement of the Lips and Jaws; II. Articulation of Single 
Words; III. Articulation of Phrases; IV. Articulation of 
Sentences. 

V. Slides, or Inflections . 28 

I. Falling Inflections; IT, Rising Inflections; III. Rising and 
Falling Inflections; IV. Circumflex Inflections. 

VI. Quality of Voice 29 

I. Whisper; II. Half- Whisper, or Aspirated Tone; III. Pure 
Tone; IV. Orotund. 

VII. Movement, or Rate of Utterance 30 

I. Quick Movement ; II. Moderate ; III. Slow. 
VIII. Force . . 32 

I. Gentle; II. Moderate; III. Loud; IV. Very Loud. 
IX. Pitch of Voice .33 

I. High; II. Middle; III. Low. 



Vlll 



CONTENTS. 



P A E T II. 



READING LESSONS. 



I. 

in. 

IV. 

i/ VI. 

— VIII. 

XII. 

XIV. 

XVI. 

XVIII. 

XXII. 

XXIV. 

XXVI. 

XXVIII. 

XXX. 

XXXII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVIII. 

XL. 

, XLII. 

v XLVI. 

XLVIII. 

L. 

LII. 

LIV. 

LVI. 

LVIII. 

LX. 

LXII. 

LXIV. 

LXVI. 

LXVIII. 

LXX. 

LXXII. 

LXXIV. 

LXXVI. 

lXXVIII. 

LXXX. 

LXXXII. 

LXXXIV. 

LXXXVI. 

LXXXVIII. 



PROSE. 

The Fish I did n't catch . . . . J. G Whittier . 37 

Stoning the Frogs Jacob Abbott . . 40 

Stoning the Frogs. Part Second . . Jacob Abbott . . 44 

The Truth Speaker Miss Crompton . 48 

Sir Walter Raleigh and his two Plants 53 

The Capture of Quebec S. G. Goodrich . 63 

Haying II. W. Beecher . 67 

The Boston Massacre N. Hawthorne . . 71 

Mr Hunt after the Baby .... Helen L. Boslwick 75 

The Scotch Woman and her two Sons 85 

Once well done, Twice done . . . L. A. B. Curtis . 88 

Adventure with a Whale 92 

Malibran and the Young Musician 95 

Rehearsing for Christmas . . . . L. M. Alcott . . 100 
The Farmer and the Fox . . . . J. A. Fronde . . 104 
Eloquence of Patrick Henry ... W. Wirt . . . 107 

Art and Artists 110 

The Practical Joker Theodore Hook . 114 

Ladd and his Neighbor 117 

Capture of Ticonderoga Bancroft . . . 120 

The Persian and his Tiikee Sons 126 

129 
131 
134 
137 
141 
148 
151 
156 
160 
163 



The Brook Krilof . . . 

Using the Eyes Samuel Smiles 

A Gigantic Iceberg ....... E. H Dana . 

The American Indian diaries Sprague 

The Cruise of the Dolphin . . . T. B. Aldrich 

The Town Pump N. Hawthorne 

The Tea Rose H B. Stowe . 

The Unknown Painter 

Boys' Country Amusements. . . . A. R. Hope 

Earning Enjoyment Fanny Fern . 

The Heroine of Edinburgh 165 

How the Giant was caught . . . T. S. Arthur . . 169 
Squire Bull and Brother Jonathan J. K. Paulding . 174 
Intelligence of the Elephant . . T. TV. Higginson 178 
Androcles and the Lion .... Thomas Day . . 184 

The Earth's Journey round the Sun 189 

Tom Brown starting for Rugby . T. Hughes . . . 192 

Health 198 

The Champion Speller Warren Burton . 201 

Buttercups and Daisies 206 

A Revolutionary Hero in the Pulpit Samuel Burnham 213 



CONTENTS. 



IX 



XC. 

XCII. 

XCIV. 

k XCVI. 

XCVIII. 

c. 

CII. 

/civ. 

cvr. 

cviii. 

y ex. 

CXIII. 

cxv. 

cxvn. 

cxix. 

cxxn. 

cxxiv. 

CXXVIII. 

exxx. 



II. 

V. 

VII. 

IX. 

XI. 

XIII. 

XV. 

XVII. 

XIX. 

XXI. 

XXIII. 

XXV. 

XXVII. 

XXIX. 

XXXI. 

XXXIII. 

XXXV. 

XXXVII. 

XXXIX. 

XLI. 

XLIII. 

XLV. 

XLVII. 

XLIX. 

LV. 

LVII. 



The Battle of Lexington Bancroft , . 219 

An Object Lesson Charles Dickens . 223 

The Bobolink W. Irving ... 228 

The Emperor's New Clothes . . . Hans Ch. Andersen 233 

Return of British Fugitives, 1782 . Patrick Htnry 238 

The Cricket on the Hearth . . . Charles Dickens . 243 

Birds 250 

Heroism of a Miner Thomas Carlyle . 253 

Snow Power H. W. Beecher . 256 

A Man Overboard J. T. Headley . 262 

First Grenadier of France 267 

Death of Little Paul Charles Dickens . 275 

The Bell of Liberty J. T. Headley . . 280 

A Search after Happiness .... Joseph C. Neal . 285 

Morning Visits Dr. Nares ... 292 

The Irish Disturbance Bill .... Daniel 0" Connell 298 
The Fate of European Kings . . . Thomas F. Meagher 302 

An Appeal to Arms Patrick Henry . 307 

" Press on." 312 

POETRY, 

The Fly and the Leaflet 39 

The Day is Done H. W. Longfellow 47 

Come and go R. S. Sharpe . . 52 

Hiawatha's Hunting II. IV. Longfellow 55 

The Milkmaid Jeffreys Taylor . 61 

The Chameleon Merrick ... 64 

Bring back my Flowers 70 

Song from the Suds L. M Alcolt . . 74 

The Fishermen J. G Whittier . 79 

Some murmur when their Sky is clear Dean Trench . . 84 

Short Extracts in Verse 87 

The Swallow and her Nest. . . . R. S. S. Andros . 91 

Nothing lost 94 

The Charcoal-Man J. T. Trowbridge 98 

The Giant Charles Mackay . 103 

The Voice and Pen D. F. McCarthy . 106 

The Discovery of America . . . . J. T. Trowbridge 109 

War Song James G. Percival 113 

George Nidiver 115 

The Burial of Moses C. T. Alexander . 118 

A Bird's Nest Florence Percy . 121 

The Glove and the Lions Leigh Hunt . .- 124 

The Miller of the Dee Chaises Mnckay . 128 

The Retort 130 

Fidelity W. Wordsworth . 139 

Farmer John J. T Trowbridge 146 



X CONTENTS. 

LIX. The Birthday of Spring Horace Smith . . 149 

LXI. The Archery of William Tell . W. Baine ... 154 

LXIII. An April Day . . . 158 

LXV The Moss Rose Krummacher . . 162 

LXV1I. Warren's Address John Pierpont . . 164 

LXIX. The Old Year and the New . . . A. Tennyson . . 168 

LXXI. The Lark and the Nightingale . . Coleridge ... 173 

LXXIII. No Work the Hardest Work ... C. F. Orne . .177 

LXXV. Bluebeard J, G. Holland . . 180 

LXXVII. Solomon and the Bees J. G. Saxe ... 187 

LXXiX. Oyer the Hill . Geo. Mac Donald . 191 

LXXXI. The Knight's Toast 196 

LXXXYv Cheers and Tears R. H. Newell . . 204 

LXXXVII. The Streamlet J. T. Tiowbridge 209 

LXXXIX. Nothing to wear W, A. Butler . . 218 

XCV. Marco Bozzaris F. G. Halkck . . 231 

XCVII. Birds and Bees H. Hurdis ... 237 

CI. The Keeping of the Bridge ... T. B. Macaulay . 246 

CIJI. Giye me the People ...... Charles Sicain . 253 

CV. Glad Chimes B. P. Shillaber . 254 

CVII The Battle of Bunker Hill . . . F. S. Cozzem . . 259 

CIX. Douglas and Marmion Walter Scott . . 265 

CXI. The Sunbeam Mrs, Hemans . . 271 

CXI I Home Happiness John Clare . . 273 

CXIV. Edinburgh after Flodden .... W. E . Aytoun . . 277 

CXVI. Minot s Ledge Fitz-JamesO' Brien 283 

CXV1II. Barbara Frietchie J. G. Whittier . 290 

CXX. The Hunteks Matthew Arnold 295 

CXX1. Life without Freedom T. Moore . . . 297 

CXXIII King Canute IV. M. Thackeray 300 

CXXV r . Columbus Aitlur HuyhCloughZMt 

CXX VI Claribel M. L. Pavmelee . 305 

CXX VII. Morning Sounds ........ James Beattie . 306 

CXXIX. The Gray Swan Alice Cary ... 310 



DIALOGUES AND CONCERT-READINGS. 

X. In Want of a Place . . . . . . G. W. Curtis . . 58 

XX. The King and the Miller of Mansfield Dodsley .... 81 

XLIV. The Return of Columbus .... Vinet .... 123 

LI. Fitz-James and Eoderick Dhu . . Walter Scott . . 133 

LIU. Hymn of the Mountaineers . . . Mrs. Hemans. . 136 

LX. The Tea-Eose H. B. Stoive . . 151 

LXXXIII. Clear the Way Charles Mackay 200 

XCI. David and Goliath Hannah More ■ 221 

XCIII. The Life-Boat 226 

XCIX. The Watcher on the Tower . . . Charles Mackay . 241 

EXPLANATORY NOTES .-•--.---..... 313 




( ^ 



PART 




" Deem it not trifling while I recommend 

What posture suits : to stand and sit by turns, 
As nature prompts, is best ; but o'er your leaves 
To lean, for ever cramps the vital parts, 
And robs the fine machinery of its play." 

Armstrong. 



Physical mdVocal Tbaining. 



POSITION AND CARRIAGE OF THE BODY. 

IN reading aloud, the bodily attitude is the first thing that 
requires attention. When a pupil stands up to read, we 
may judge beforehand what will be the character of his per- 
formance by the position assumed. The timid posture, with 
bent spine and contracted chest, will be accompanied by a 
feeble drawl : and the awkward, indifferent attitude will pre- 
cede a hard, unsympathetic tone of voice, or mumbling utter- 
ance ; while from one who takes an attitude of dignity and 
self-respect we may look for that honest and earnest effort ' 
which insures progress and improvement. The pupil should 
therefore secure a good position as a habit whenever he is 
using his voice. 

All the muscles used in producing voice must act with ease 
and elasticity ; and this comes from the right kind of practice 
or exercise. No one will do his best who, through laziness, 
negligence, or ignorance, allows the vocal machinery to become 
enfeebled and ineffective. In fact, the influence of physical 
conditions extends even to the mental and moral habit. We 
shall therefore have more vivacious, intelligent, and expressive 
reading where proper care is taken with regard to the manage- 
ment of the body. 

A few moments at every session should be devoted to drill in 
the physical and vocal exercises. They are not all required in 
any one lesson, but a judicious use of them at proper intervals 
will greatly improve the carriage of the body, expand the chest, 
and give freedom to the voice. 

The drill should always be carried on in a cheerful and 



14 



THE FIFTH READER. 



buoyant spirit. It must never be allowed to- degenerate into a 
dull and lifeless routine. 

See that the air of the school-room is pure before taking up 
any exercise. Neither teacher nor pupils can work to advan- 
tage in a vitiated atmosphere. 

In conducting the drill, give but one command at a time ; 
and NEVER GIVE A second till the first is obeyed. 

I. Sitting Position. 

1. Rest the feet fully on the floor, forming an angle of sixty 
degrees. 

2. Sit (not lean) as far back in the seat as possible ; sup- 
porting the lower part of the spine against the back of the 
chair. 

3. Knees bent nearly at a 
right angle. 

4. Body square to the front. 

5. Chest expanded. 
G. Hands fall easily in the 

lap, little fingers downward. 

7. Shoulders square. 

8. Shoulder-blades flat. 

9. Head erect ; not tipped in 
either direction. 

10. Chin slightly drawn in. 

11. Raise the form to the 
fall height. 

12. Poise the body slightly 
forward. 

13. Eyes straight to the front. 

14. Ear, shoulder, and hip in line. 

These particulars should be taught carefully, one at a time. 
After they are once learned, it is sufficient for the teacher to 
give simply the words of command, which should be obeyed 
with military promptness. 

This position should be frequently practiced as an exercise ; 
but pupils should be required to remain in it only a few min- 
utes at a time. The younger the scholars, the oftener should 
they be allowed to change their position. 

Words of command : Ready ! — Position ! 




SITTING POSITION. 



POSITION AND CARRIAGE OF THE BODY. 



15 




POISE FORWARD AND BACK 



II. Poise forward and back. 

First Incline slowly forward thirty degrees, or till touching 
the desk in front, — without 
drooping the head or bending 
the spine. 

Second. Steadily return to 
position. 

Third. Incline the body 
steadily backward thirty de- 
grees, or as far as the back of 
the chair will admit, without 
bending the neck or back. 

Fourth. Slowly return to po- 
sition. 

The teacher may regulate the 
exercise by counting in exact ^ 
time four to each movement. 

This exercise is designed to 
accustom the pupil to incline the body forward or backward 
without contracting the chest, — thus allowing the breathing 
and vocal organs freedom of action. 

Words of command : Poise forward ! — Position ! — Back- 
ward ) — Position. 

III. Position of Rest. 

Easily relax ftie muscles and lean 
against the back of the chair. 

In conducting physical exercises, 
whenever the teacher's attention is 
diverted from the class as a whole, 
to give instruction to individuals, or 
for any other purpose, the class 
should be directed to "rest." This 
position is also that of passive at- 
tention. 

Any other posture which is grace- 
ful and favorable to health may be 
substituted for this. But awkward 
or unheal thful attitudes should not 
be permitted in the school-room. 

Word of command : Rest I 




POSITION OP REST 



16 



THE FIFTH READER. 




POSITION OF ATTENTION 



IV. Position of Attention. 

Poise the body slightly for- 
ward, and rest the fore-arms 
lightly on the desk, supporting 
the book with both hands. In- 
cline the book backward about 
thirty degrees. 

In case the pupils have no 
desks, the book is held as in 
the " Reading Position," with 
one or both hands at intervals. 
Frequent opportunities for rest 
must be allowed when there is 
no support for the arms. 

This position is required in 
concert-reading when practiced 
with the pupils seated ; and it is the posture of attention for the 
class daring the reading of the teacher, and of single pupils. 
Words of command : Take the books ! — Attention ! 

V. Standing Position. 

1. Heels in a line, and together. 

2. Feet turned equally outward, form- 
ing an angle of sixty degrees. 

3. Knees straight. 

4. Body square to the front. 

5. Chest expanded and advanced, but 
without constraint. 

6. Arms hang easily at the side. 

7. Shoulders equal height. 

8. Shoulder-blades flat. 

9. Head erect, raised at the crown, 
not tipped in any direction. 

10. Chin slightly drawn in. 

11. Form raised to the full height. 

12. Body poised slightly forward, so 
that the weight bears mainly on the 
ball of the foot. 

STANDING POSITION. J 3 Eyeg stra ight tO the froilt 

14. Whole figure in such a position that the ear, shoulder, 
hip, knee, and ankle are all in a line. 




POSITION AND CARRIAGE OF THE BODY. 



17 



The position as a whole gives the impres- 
sion of graceful ease combined with firmness 
and self-respect. 

Many individuals are unable to fulfill all 
these conditions in their first efforts. They 
must perseveringly practice day by day, in 
connection with the exercises given subse- 
quently, until they have overcome the diffi- 
culties. 

Xo pains should be spared to get this 
position exactly ; and the pupil should be 
required to observe its main points when- 
ever he stands to read or recite, in order to 
establish as a habit an erect and dignified 
carriage of the body. 

Weak children need to be particularly 
cautioned against stooping the shoulders, 
contracting the chest, making the back too 
hollow, and drooping the head. 

Words of command : Prepare to stand ! 
— Stand ! — Position ! 




STANDING POSITION. — 
FRONT VIEW. 



VI. Poise forward and backward. 

First. Carry the weight of the body 
as far forward as possible, without lift- 
ing the heels or bending the spine. The 
ankle joint yields, but the other joints 
remain inflexible. 

Second. Return steadily to position. 

Third. Carry the weight of the body 
as far back as possible, so as to bear 
mainly on the heels, but without lifting 
the toes. Spine and joints inflexible. 

Fourth. Return steadily to position. 

Four counts to each movement. 

This strengthens the muscles which 
sustain the body in a standing position, 
and gives firmness upon the feet. 

.Words of command : Poise forward ! 
— Position i — Backward ! — Position ! 




POISE FORWARD AND BACKWARD 



18 



THE FIFTH READER. 



VII. Holding the Book for reading. 




READER'S POSITION. 



Hold the book open in the left 
hand, with three fingers beneath it, 
and the thumb and little finger 
above, to keep the leaf down. 

Advance the elbow a few inches, 
and raise the fore-arm from thirty 
to forty-five degrees, so as to secure 
perfect vision without bending the 
neck or body. 

If necessary, depress the plane of 
the book so as not to hide the face. 

The eye must be trained to catch 
the words in advance of the utter- 
ance ; so that the reader can look off 
the book occasionally. Looking down 
too much upon the page causes the 
voice to be directed to the book, in- 
stead of being sent out into the room. 




VIII. Speaker's Position. 

Throw the weight of the body firm- 
ly on the left foot, and advance the 
right foot about three inches, allow- 
ing it to rest lightly, with the knee 
a little bent. 

Reverse this position by throwing 
the weight on the right foot, and 
leaving the left easily advanced. 

A line dropped through the front 
of the neck will fall on the instep of 
the supporting foot. A line drawn 
lengthwise through the center of the 
advanced foot passes through the heel 
of the other. 
r_i. Words of command : Speaker's 

position, weight on the right 

foot ! — On the left ! 



speaker's position. 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHEST. 



19 



II. 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHEST. 

I. Active and Passive Chest. 

STANDING position. 
First. Relax the muscles and allow the 
chest to fall listlessly, as if fatigued. This is 
the passive chest. 

Second. Elevate and expand the chest in 
a position of dignity and self-reliance, some- 
what as if defying a blow. This is the active 
chest. 

This exercise should be simply muscular, 
and not depend upon the breathing. 

The habit should be established of keeping, 
without constraint, the active chest in stand- 
ing, walking, running, and whenever using 
the voice, — as in reading, declaiming, and 
■singing. 

Words of command : Chest — passive ! — 
Active ! 




ACTIVE CHEST. 



II. Percussion of the Chest. 

Place the hands on the 
chest with the forefingers 
just below the collar-bones, 
fore-arms horizontal. Take 
a deep inspiration through 
the nostrils. Hold the 
breath. 

First. Strike on the chest 
rapid percussive blows with 
the flat of the fingers ; the wrists slack. Time, four counts. 

Second. Give out the breath through the nostrils, — two 
counts. Inhale a deep breath, — two counts. Repeat from first. 

Percussion may also be practiced upon other parts of the 
chest. This has effect in expanding the lungs, forcing the air 
into cells imperfectly filled in ordinary breathing. 




PERCUSSION OF THE CHEST. 



20 



THE FIFTH READER. 



The blows must be light and gentle for the first few weeks of 
practice ; and may be gradually increased in force, but must 
never be rigid and jarring. 

Words of command : Hands upon the chest — place! — Full 
breath ! — Percussion ! — One, two, three, four. (Repeat.) 

III. Chest Expansion. 

Elbows sharply bent and close to 
the side ; fore-arm horizontal ; fists 
clenched palms upward. Take a deep 
inspiration. Hold the breath. 

First. Extend the arms full length 
forward, relaxing the muscles and 
opening the hands, palms downward. 

Second. Bring the arms energetic- 
ally back to their former position, 
endeavoring to expand the chest as 
much as possible. 

Third. Expel the breath through 
the nostrils, — two counts ; take a fresh inspiration, — two . 
counts ; and repeat from first movement. 

Words of command : Arms bent at the side — place ! — 
Full breath ! — One, two, etc. 




CHEST EXPANSION. 




PERCUSSION WITH ARM MOVE- 
MENTS. 



IV. Percussion with Arm Movements. 

The hands fall easily at the side. Take 
a full breath. 

First. Swing the arms from the shoul- 
der alternately, with slack joints, giving 
elastic blows upon the lungs, striking 
with the flat of the fingers just below 
the collar-bone. The right hand strikes 
upon the left lung, and the left hand 
upon the right lung. Give two blows 
with each hand. 

Second. Exhale and inhale the breath 
as in the preceding exercises. 

Words of command : With arm move- 
ments! — Full breath! — One, two, etc. 



DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHEST. 



21 



V. Shoulder Movements. — Bent Arms. 
Clenched fists at the side of the shoul- 
ders, palms forward, fore-arms vertical. 

First. Bring the open hands, palms in- 
ward, so as to touch each othex about three 
inches in front of the chin. 

Second. Throw the fore-arms back to the 
side as in the commencing position, fists 
clenched, palms outward. — Repeat. 

Third. Change the breath. 

Words of command : Fore-arms verti- 
cal — place ! — One, two, eta 

VI. Breathing with Arm Movements. 

First. Bring the tips of the fin- 
gers to the shoulders, inhaling the 
breath through the nostrils at the 
same time. 

Second, Strike downward and for- 
ward, clenching the fists with palms 
front, and expelling the breath 
through the nostrils with the move- 
ment. 

The breath must be expelled by 
the action of the diaphragm and its 
auxiliary muscles of the waist and 
abdomen. This will naturally be 
the case if the pupil makes a deci- 
sive motion of the arms and clenches 
the fists. 

Words of command : Touch the 

SHOULDERS PLACE ! BREATHE ! 




SHOULDER MOVEMENTS. 




BREATHING WITH ARM MOVEMENTS 



(Six times.) 

VII. Deep Breathing. 

First Inhale a deep breath slowly and tranquilly through 
the nostrils, taking care not to raise the shoulders. 

Second. Give out the breath tranquilly through the nostrils, 
holding the chest expanded with easy firmness. 

Words of command : Ixhale ! — Expel ! (Repeat.) 



22 THE FIFTH READER. 



III. 



RIGHT USE OF THE VOICE. 

THE sentences in the last part of this chapter are given as 
exercises to be spoken with the tone of pleasant conversa- 
tion ; and this implies speaking to some one, not merely recit- 
ing the words. The pupil should look at the person addressed 
with a cheerful expression of countenance. Any contraction of 
the brows or distressed expression of the face is almost sure to 
be accompanied by a bad tone of voice. 

The teacher may speak the sentences first, to be imitated ; 
or any pupil who has a sweet intonation and natural sprightli- 
ness of manner may give the examples. Minor faults of artic- 
ulation are to be disregarded in this exercise. 

Such practice is not to be abandoned until every boy and 
girl speaks habitually in pleasant, conversational tones. And 
the work is not finally completed until the customary tone in 
reading and recitation is that of intelligence and refinement. 
Good taste in speech is as much called for in the school-room as 
in the pulpit or parlor ; and indeed more, for it is here that the 
habits are formed which stamp and influence all the future 
career. 

Great pains may be bestowed upon a reading-lesson ; if the 
pupils are allowed to drift back into faulty habits the moment 
any other recitation is taken up, the work is in a great measure 
lost. 

But it is not the voice alone that suffers. The humdrum 
style of reading tends to stultify the intelligence. The habit of 
calling words monotonously, without attaching any meaning to 
them, retards or renders next to impossible progress in the va- 
rious studies. Take arithmetic, for example. The pupil should 
be required to state his question with intelligent expression. 
It will be time gained to him as a mathematician. Suppose 
him about to try a problem which he reads in a high-pitched, 
hard, unvarying, stumbling manner, like this (as far as it can 
be suggested to the eye) : — 

"Two-lo-lo — Two -lo-c'motives- start — si-si — sime-tay — 
(Teacher prompts sharply : Start simultaneously) — starts - 



RIGHT USE OF THE VOICE. 23 

ime'tarnously — Two - lo-c'moti ves - starts - I'm - famously — • 
one at - Butt-lo — the oth'rat — Alb'ny — three - hun' twent' - 
five miles - part — " Is it not a waste of time for him to pro- 
ceed further till he has learned to read, or till he does read 

INTELLIGENTLY 1 

And so in other studies, the amount of thought exercised 
may be determined by the quality of voice used. 

Sweet tones are the natural clothing of fresh and beautiful 
ideas. The conversational quality of voice is the basis of all 
excellence in reading. What is known as the "school-tone" 
should be banished at once and forever from the school-room. 

I. Conversational Tones. 

1. Good morning! — How do you do? — Very well, I thank 
you, — how do you do? 

It is a pleasant day. — Yes, very pleasant. — Do you think 
it will rain to-day? — Well, no; I think we shall have sunshine 
all day. — I hope we shall, for I wish to take a walk. 

2. "O, see those humming-birds! "-— " Where are they? Ah! 
I see one now; it is the ruby-throat. See how his throat glit- 
ters !" — " Shall we try to catch it?" — "No, I would rather 
look at it." 

3. Just see! this is a slender pea-vine! It is now shooting 
out its green leaves. Soon we shall have a garden. 

n. Question and Answer. 

1. A boy who had forty cents gave away ten cents; how 
many cents had he remaining ? — Ten cents from forty cents 
leaves thirty cents ; therefore he had thirty cents remaining. 

2. What ocean lies east of the United States? — The Atlan- 
tic Ocean. 

3. When and by whom was America discovered? — By Chris- 
topher Columbus, in the year 1492. 

4. In the sentence " John reads naturally," which is the sub- 
ject and which is the predicate? — "John" is the subject, and 
" reads naturally " is the predicate. 



24 THE FIFTH READER. 

III. Familiar Narrative. 

1. When I was a young man, I went upon a whaling voyage, 
I will tell you how whales are caught. 

2. Whenever Jane saw a tuft of moss, she said, " Please, dear 
moss, may I take you?" And when she saw a beautiful branch 
with scarlet leaves, she said, "Dear bush, may I take these 
leaves % " 

3. The kettle began it ! Don't tell me what Mrs. Peerybin- 
gle said. I know better. Mrs. Peerybingle may leave it on 
record till the end of time, that she could n't say which of them 
began it ; but I say the kettle did. I ought to know, I hope. 

IV. Vivacious Style of Poetry. 

1. Cheerily, then, my little man, 
Live and laugh, as boyhood can. 

2. the Spring, the bountiful Spring ! 
She.shineth and smileth on everything. 

3. Ho, ho ! ha, ha ! the merry fire ! 
It sputters and it crackles ! 

Snap, snap ! flash, flash ! old oak and ash 
Send out a million sparkles. 



IV. 

ARTICULATION. 

ARTICULATION is effected by the action of the lips, 
tongue, palate, and jaws. In order that articulation 
may be perfect, there must be a prompt, neat, and easy action 
of these organs. When they move feebly or clumsily, the ar- 
ticulation is indistinct or mumbling. An elastic play of the 
muscles of the mouth is necessary, not only for distinctness 
of utterance, but for the expressiveness of the face. 

The following exercises will aid to discipline the muscles used 
in articulation,, and accustom them to energetic action. After 



ARTICULATION. 



a vigorous tone has been given to these muscles, their move- 
ments in utterance must not be excessive, or too apparent to 
the eye. 






I. Movement of the Lips and Jaws. 

First. Pronounce the vowel e, extending the lips as much as 
possible side wise, and showing the tips of the teeth. 

Second. Pronounce ah, dropping the jaw and opening the 
mouth to its widest extent. 

Third. Pronounce oo (as in cool), contracting the lips. 

Then, the teacher having drawn upon the blackboard a tri- 
angle with the three sounds indicated at the angles, let him 
pass the "pointer" around in a circle, touching at the angles, 
and require the pupils to utter the vowels, as he indicates 
them, in rapid succession, continuously, that is, without paus- 



26 THE FIFTH READEK. 

ing between them. Having gone around three or four times in 
one direction, make a signal for the pupils to stop ; then taking 

E 




a fresh breath, reverse the exercise. Proceed in like manner, 
taking each of the other angles as a starting-point. We shall 
thus have repetitions of each of the following : E-ah-oo ; e-oo-ah; 
ah-e-oo ; ah-oo-e ; oo-ah-e ; oo-e-ah. 

After the above has been practiced for a minute or two, exer- 
cises like the following may be taken up immediately. The 
teacher pronounces one word at a time with the utmost pre- 
cision, and requires the pupils to repeat with an exaggerated 
movement of the lips and jaws. Next, phrases, and finally 
complete sentences, are uttered ; great care being taken to give 
elastic spring and play to the muscles of articulation. The one 
injunction which needs to be enforced upon the mumbler is, 

OPEN THE MOUTH AND MOVE THE LIPS. 

II. Articulation of Single Words. 

1. I . . know . . of . . no . . way . . of . . judging . . of . . the 
future . . but . . by . . the past. 

2. . . sun ! . . thou . . comest . . forth . . in . . thy . . awful . . 
beauty, . . and . . the stars . . hide . . themselves . . in . . the 
sky. 

3. Are . , fleets . . and . . armies . . necessary .. to ... a work 
> . of . . love . . and . . reconciliation % 



ARTICULATION. 27 

III. Articulation of Phrases. 

1. In every period of life . . the acquisition of knowledge . . 
is one of the most pleasing employments . . of the human mind. 

2. x\n old clock . . that had stood for fifty years . . in a farm- 
er's kitchen . . without giving its owner . . any cause of com- 
plaint, . . early one summer's morning . . before the family was 
stirring . . suddenly stopped. 

3. Hark ! . . hark to the robin ! . . its magical call . . 

Awakens the flowerets . . that slept in the dells ; . . 
The snow-drop, . . the primrose, . . the hyacinth, . . all 

Attune at the summons . . their silvery bells. . . 
Hush ! . . ting-a-ring-ting ! . . don't you hear how they sing 1 . . 

They are pealing a fairy -like welcome . . to Spring. 

IV. Articulation of Sentences. 

1. The greater the difficulty, the more glory there is in sur- 
mounting it ; skilful pilots gain their reputation from storms 
and tempests. 

2. How far, Catiline ! wilt thou abuse our patience ? How 
long wilt thou baffle justice in thy mad career'? To what 
extreme wilt thou cany thy audacity ] 

3. Welcome her, thunders of fort and of fleet ! 
Welcome her, thundering cheer of the street ! 
Welcome her, all things youthful and sweet, 
Scatter the blossoms under her feet ! 
Break, happy land, into earlier flowers ! 
Make music, bird, in the new-budded bowers ! 
Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours ! 

Warble, bugle, and trumpet, blare ! 
Flags, flutter out upon turrets and towers ! 
Flames, on the windy headland flare ! 
Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire ! 
Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air ! 
Flash, ye cities, in rivers of fire ! 
Welcome her, welcome the land's desire 



28 THE FIFTH READER. 



V. 

SLIDES OB INFLECTIONS. 

I. Falling Inflections. 

OUSE thee up ! waste not life in fond delusions ! Be 
a soldier, — be a hero, — be a man ! 

2. " Halt ! " The dust-brown ranks stood fast. 
" Fire ! " Out blazed the rifle blast. 

3. There is a sound of thunder afar, 

Stbrm in the South that darkens the day, 



E 



Storm of battle and thunder of war ; 
Well if it do not roll our way. 

Stbrm ! stbrm ! Riflemen, form ! 
Ready, be ready to meet the storm ! 
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form ! 

II. Rising Inflections. 

1. May I stay here ? — I have no objection. You may if you 
like. 

2. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and ardu- 
ous struggle for liberty 1 Are w r e disposed to be of the number 
of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, 
the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation ? 

3. Art thou nothing daunted by the nightly watch % Noth- 
ing, by the city guards'? Nothing, by the rally of all good 
citizens ? Nothing, by the assembling of the Senate in this for- 
tified place 1 Nothing, by the averted looks of all here present ] 

III. Rising and Falling Inflections. 

1. Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my 
hand and my heart to this vote. 

2. Spare that you may spend ; fast that you may feast ; 
labor that you may live ; and run that you may rest. 

3. Will you rise like men, and firmly assert your rights, or 
will you tamely submit to be trampled on % 



QUALITY OF VOICE. 29 

IV. Circumflex Inflections. 

1. It is vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, 
as everybody knows, set yourself up above me, — it is vastly 
easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness. 

2. The common error is, to resolve to act right after break- 
fast, or after dinner, or to-morrow morning, or next time : but 
now, just now, this once, we must go on the same as ever. 

3. If you said so, then I said so. Oho ! did you say so 1 So 
they shook hands and were sworn brothers. 



VI 

QUALITY OF VOICE. 
I. Whisper. 

IS all prepared ? — speak soft and low." 
" All ready ! we have sent the men, 
As you appointed, to the place." 

2. All silent they went, for the time was approaching, 
The moon the blue zenith already was touching. 

3. Hark ! I hear the bugles of the enemy ! They are on 
their march along the bank of the river. We must retreat 
instantly, or be cut off from our boats. 

II. Half- Whisper, or Aspirated Tone. 

1. " Silence ! " in undertones they cry, 
" No whisper ! — not a breath ! 
The sound that warns thy comrades nigh 
Shall sentence thee to death," 

2. He hears a nbise, — he 's all awake, — 
Again ! On tiptoe down the hill 
He softly creeps. 

3. Soldiers !. you are now within a few steps of the enemy's 
outpost. A swift and noiseless advance around that projecting 



30 THE FIFTH READEK. 

rock, and we are upon them, — we capture them without the 
possibility of resistance. 

III. Pure Tone. 

1. I come, I come ! — ye have called me long, — 
I come o'er the mountains with light and song. 

2. Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 

Near to the nest of his little dame, 
Over the mountain-side or mead, 

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name, — 
Bob-odink, Bob-o-link, spink, spank, spink. 

3. Hurrah ! how gayly we ride ! How the ship careers ! 
How she leaps ! How gracefully she bends ! How fair her 
white wings ! How trim her hull ! How slim her tall taper 
masts ! What a beautiful dancing fairy ! 

IV. Orotund. 

1. thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my 
fathers! whence are thy beams, Sun! thy everlasting light? 

2. And lo ! from the assembled crowd 
There rose a shout prolonged and loud. 

3. Now for the fight, — now for the cannon peal, — 
Forward, — through blood and toil and cloud and fire ! 



VII. 

MOVEMENT, OR RATE OF UTTERANCE. 
I. Quick Movement. 

ALL the little boys and girls, 
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, 
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, 
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after 
The wonderful music, with shouting and laughter. 



FORCE. 31 

2. The steed along the drawbridge flies 
Just as it trembled on the rise ; 
Not lighter does the swallow skim 
Along the smooth lake's level brim. 

3. One April day, while Putnam is ploughing on his farm, 
Rides furious by a horseman, whose cry is, "Arm! Arm! 

Arm!" 
" What news ? what news % " says Putnam. And he : " The 

war 's begun, 
For yesterday a battle was fought at Lexington." 

II. Moderate 

1. 'T is not enough no harshness gives offense ; 
The sound must seem an echo to the sense. 

2. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, 
trippingly on the tongue ; but, if you mouth it, as many of our 
players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. 

3. The air, the earth, the water, teem with delighted exist- 
ence. In a spring noon, or a summer evening, on whichever 
side we turn our eyes, myriads of happy beings crowd upon our 
view. 

Ill, Slow. 

1. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day ; 

The lowing herd w T inds slowly o'er the lea ; 
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

2. If there 's a Power above us 

(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud 
Through all her works), he must delight in virtue ; 
And that which he delights in must be happy. 

3. O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is Thy name in all the 
earth ! who hast set Thy glory above the heavens. 

When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers ; the 
moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained; what is man 
that Thou art mindful of him ? and the son of man, that thou 
visitest him ? 



32 THE FIFTH READER. 



VIII. 

FORCE. 
I. Gentle. 

FLOW, softly flow, by lawn and lea 9 
A rivulet, then a river ; 
No more by thee my steps shall be, 
Forever and forever. 

2. The night shall be filled with music, 

And the cares that infest the day 
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, 
And as silently steal away. 

3. hark, hear ! how thin and clear, 

And thinner, clearer, farther going ; 
sweet and far, from cliff and scar, 
The horns of Elf-land faintly blowing. 

II. Moderate. 

1 . Expression is the dress of thought, and still 
Appears more decent as more suitable. 

2. We should make the same use of a book that the bee does 
of a flower : he gathers sweets from it, but does not injure it. 

3. It is not what people 6at, but what they digest, that 
makes them strong. It is not what they gain, but what they 
save, that makes them rich. It is not what they read, but what 
they remember, that makes them learned. It is not what they 
profess, but what they practice, that makes them good. 

III. Loud. 

1. The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. 
And since the war must go on, why put off longer the Declara- 
tion of Independence ^ 



PITCH OF VOICE. 33 

2. Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife ! 
To all the sensual world proclaim, 
One crowded hour of glorious life 
Is worth an age without a name. 

3. Hurrah ! the land is safe, is safe ; it rallies from the shock ! 
Ring round, ring round, ye merry bells, till every steeple rock ! 
Let trumpets blow and mad drums beat ! let maidens scatter 

flowers ! 
The sun bursts through the battle smoke ! Hurrah ! the day 

is ours ! 

IV. Very Loud. 
1 . Boat ahoy ! Boat ahoy ! 

2. Ye guards of liberty, 

I 'm with you once again. I call to you 
With all my voice. 

3. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells ! 

King John, your king and England's, doth approach : 
Open your gates, and give the victors way ! 



IX. 

PITCH OF VOICE. 
I. High. 

CRY Holiday ! Holiday ! let us be gay, 
And share in the rav~:ure of heaven and earth ; 
For, see ! what a sunshiny joy they display, 

To welcome the Spring on the day of her birth, 

2. You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother 

dear ; 
To-morrow '11 be the happiest time of all the glad New- Year ; 
Of all the glad New- Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day ; 
For I J a to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to be Queen o' 

the May. 



34 THE FIFTH READER. 



3. Hear the sledges with the bells, 



Silver bells ! 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 

In the icy air of night [ 
While the stars that oversprinkle 
All the heavens, seem to twinkle 

With a crystalline delight. 

II. Middle. 

1. But true expression, like the unchanging sun, 
Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon ; 
It gilds all objects, but it alters none. 

2. 'T is education forms the common mind ; 
Just as the twig is bent, the tree 's inclined. 

3. As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, 
I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant, I honor him ; but as he was 
ambitious, I slew him. 

III. Low. 

1. Hark ! from the battlements of yonder tower, 
The solemn bell has tolled the midnight hour. 

2. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day ; 

The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea ; 
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

3. Of old hast Thou laid the foundations of the earth ; and 
the heavens are the work of Thy hands. They shall perish, 
but Thou shalt endure ; yea, all of them shall wax old, like a 
garment ; as a vesture shalt Thou change them, and they shall 
be changed : but Thou art the same ; and Thy years shall have 
no end. 




VWll 




" So they read in the book in the law of God distinctly, and 
gave the sense, and caicsed them to understand the reading." 

Nkhemiah, VIII. 8. 



The Fifth Reader, 



l,_TEE FISH I DIDN'T CATCH. 

I REMEMBER my first fishing-excursion as if it were 
but yesterday. I have been happy many times in my 
life, but never more intensely so than when I received that 
first fishing-pole from my uncle's hand, and trudged off 
with him through the woods and meadows, 

2. It was a still, sweet day of early summer ; the long 
afternoon shadows of the trees lay cool across our path ; 
the leaves seemed greener, the flowers brighter, the birds 
merrier, than ever before. 

3. My uncle, who knew by long experience where were 
the best haunts of pickerel, considerately placed me at the 
most favorable point. I threw out my line as I had so 
often seen others do, and waited anxiously for a bite, mov- 
ing the bait in rapid jerks on the surface of the water, in 
imitation of the leap of a frog. Nothing came of it, " Try 
again," said my uncle. 

4. Suddenly the bait sank out of sight. " Now for it," 
thought I ; " here is a fish at last," I made a strong pull, 
and brought up a tangle of weeds. Again and again I cast 
out my line with aching arms, and drew it back empty. I 
looked to my uncle appealingly. "Try once more," he said ; 
" we fishermen must have patience." 

5. Suddenly something tugged at my line, and swept off 
with it into deep water. Jerking it up, I saw a fine pick- 
erel wriggling in the sun. " Uncle ! " I cried, looking back 
in uncontrollable excitement, " I Ve got a fish 1 " 



38 THE FIFTH READER. 

6. " Not yet/' said my uncle. As he spoke there was a 
plash in the water ; I caught the arrowy gleam of a scared 
fish shooting into the middle of the stream ; my hook 
hung empty from the line. I had lost my prize. 

7. Overcome by my great and bitter disappointment, I 
sat down on the nearest hassock, and for a time refused to 
be comforted even by my uncle's assurance that there were 
more fish in the brook. He refitted my bait, and, putting 
the pole again in my hands, told me to try my luck once 
more. 

8. " But remember, boy," he said, with his shrewd smile, 
" never brag of catching a fish until he is on dry ground. 
I've seen older folks doing that in more ways than one, 
and so making fools of themselves. It 's no use to boast 
of anything until it 's done, nor then, either, for it speaks 
for itself." 

9. How often since I have been reminded of the fish I 
did n't catch ! When I hear people boasting of a work as 
yet undone, and trying to anticipate the credit which be- 
longs only to actual achievement, I call to mind that scene 
by the brookside ; and the wise caution of my uncle in 
that particular instance takes the form of a proverb of uni- 
versal application : " Never brag of your fish before 

TOU CATCH HIM." j mM&r 

EXERCISE. 
Reaj) these sentences, first as given ; THEN agatn, supplying 

WORDS OR PHRASES OF SIMILAR MEANING IN PLACE OF THOSE IN ITALICS. 

1. I remember my first fishing-excursion. 

2. I trudged off through the woods and meadows. 

3. Suddenly the bait sank out of sight. 

4. I cast out my line, and drew it back empty. 

5. Suddenly something tugged at my line. 

6. Jerking it up, I saw a fine pickerel wriggling in the sun. 

7. I saw a scared fish shooting into the middle of the stream. 

8. I sat down on the nearest hassock. [Tuft of coarse grass.] 

9. My uncle assured me there were more fish in the brook. 

10. I call to mind that scene by the brookside. 

11. It 's no use to boast of anything until it 's done. 



THE FLY AND THE LEAFLET. 39 



II - THE FLY AND THE LEAFLET 



ON a bridge I was standing, one morning. 
And watching the current roll by, 
When suddenly into the water 
There fell an unfortunate fly. 

ii. 

The fishes that swam to the surface 
Were looking for something to eat, 

And I thought that the hapless young insect 
Would surely afford them a treat. 

in. 

" Poor thing ! " I exclaimed, with compassion, 
" Your trials and dangers abound ; 

For if you escape being eaten, 

You cannot escape being drowned." 

IV. 

No sooner the sentence was spoken 

Than, lo ! like an angel of love, 
I saw r to the waters beneath me 

A leaflet descend from above. 

v. 

It glided serene on the streamlet, 
'T was an ark to the poor little fly, 

Which, soon to the land re-ascending, 
Spread its wings in the breezes to dry 

VI. 

0, sweet was the truth that was whispered, 
That mortals should never despair, 

For He who takes care of the insect 
Much more for His children will care ! 



40 THE FIFTH READER. 

VII. 

And though to our short-sighted vision 
No way of escape may appear, 

Let us trust, — for when least we expect it, 
The help of our Father is near. 



III. — STONING THE FROGS. 

MABY OSBORNE and Augustina sat together be- 
hind a screen of rocks and bushes, and peeped out 
to the place where two boys, George and Johnny, were 
standing near the shore of the pond. 

2. " This is the place, Johnny," said George. " Now we 
must pick up all the stones we can find, and get them 
ready, and then watch the water, and just as soon as we 
see a head come up above the lily-pads, we must let drive." 

3. In a word, George had brought Johnny down to the 
shore of the pond at the watering-place, with a view to 
pelting the poor frogs that lived in the water there, among 
the lily-pads and bulrushes which grew at a little distance 
from the shore. 

4. " Tubh ! " said one of the frogs. v 

"There 1 " exclaimed George, " don't you hear him, John- 
ny ? " 

" Yes," replied Johnny, " but I don't see him." 

5. " He is out that way," said George, and then sudden- 
ly he threw the stone with great force. The two girls heard 
the splash it made in the water, but could not see where it 
struck. 

6. " Did you hit him ? " asked Johnny. 

" I don't know," said George. " I did not see him ; I 
only fired at a venture." 

7. " They are pelting the frogs," said Augustina, in a 
whisper. 

" Yes," replied Mary Osborne, speaking also very softly. 
*' Do you think we had better go and tell them they must 
not do it ? " 



STONING THE FROGS. 41 

8. " No," said Augustina ; " that would not do any good. 
Tliey will do just as they have a mind to for all that we 
can say." 

" One of them is not very big," said Mary Osborne. 

9. " No, Johnny is a small boy/' replied Augustina, " but 
he will do just as the big one says. Besides, if we say 
anything to them, it is as likely as not that they will begin 
to pelt us with their stones. But hark ! here is somebody 
coming." 

10. Augustina began gently to push away some of the 
leaves so that she could see better. 

" It is a man coming on a horse," said she. " He is turn- 
ing down from the road. He is coming to water his horse. 
I hope he will find out what the boys are doing, and will 
give them a good scolding." 

11. The man upon the horse did find out what the 
boys were doing, for George was in the act of throwing a 
stone when the man first came in sight of him, as he 
turned down toward the shore. And he did give them a 
good scolding, — at least, what the boys called such. 

12. All the while the man had been talking with the 
boys, his horse had been drinking. The horse having now 
drank enough, the man turned him round and went back 
toward the road, saying as he went, — 

" Now remember, boys ! When I am gone, leave the 
frogs alone, and don't pelt them any more." 
So saying, the man and the horse disappeared. 

13. " Who is that man ? " asked Johnny. 

" I don't know," said George, looking out at the same 
time over the water to see if he could discover another 
frog. " Whoever he is, we won't mind what he says." 

14. " No, but 1 11 tell you what it is," said Johnny. 
" What is it ? " asked George, beginning to take aim. 

15. " If he had only let us have his horse, we might 
have gone out and got some pond-lilies." 

" Hoh ! " exclaimed George, in a tone of great contempt. 
u That man would not let us have his horse to get pond- 
lilies." 



42 



THE FIFTH READER. 



§£* A2J 




16. Just at that instant George caught sight of a frog, 
and immediately he threw his stone with all his force. 

" My ! " he ejaculated. " I came within an inch of him. 
I took aim right between his eyes. That 's the way to take 
aim, — right between the eyes." 

17. The boys evincing thus a disposition to go on pelt- 
ing the frogs, Mary Osborne was very much inclined to go 
out and try the effect of her remonstrances upon them. 
But Augustina dissuaded her from any such attempt. 

18. In a few minutes they heard the sound of wheels. 
At the same moment they heard Johnny say, — 

" Here 's somebody coming, George." 
Johnny was afraid it might be somebody coming to give 
them another scolding for pelting the frogs. 



STONING THE FROGS. 43 

19. " I don't care," said George. 

" Look and see if you know who it is/' said Johnny. 
So George looked up. " No," said he, " I don't know 
who it is." 

20. The wagon was now turning down toward the water- 
ing-place, and the girls could see that there was quite an 
agreeable-looking young man in it. He was well dressed, 
and he had a frank and open countenance. 

21. As soon as the horse came to the margin of the 
water, the young man said, — 

" Boys, will one of you be good enough to unhook the 
check-rein, so that my horse can drink ? " 

22. The boys threw down their stones, and ran at once 
to the horse. George, being the tallest, unhooked the rein, 
and the horse began to drink. 

23. " I knew you were clever fellows the minute I put 
my eyes on you," said the young man. " Now jump up 
into my wagon. I want you up here." 

24. The boys immediately scrambled up into the wagon. 
The young man made room for them upon the seat. As 
soon as they were comfortably settled, George looked up 
at the young man, and asked, — 

" What do you want of us ? " 

25. " 0, only your company up here, while my horse is 
drinking," said he. " What is there here on the pond that 
you were looking at when I came along ? " 

26. " Frogs," said George. 

" Pond-lilies," said Johnny. Johnny seemed to have an 
instinctive feeling that it was better to turn the conversa- 
tion toward the pond-lilies than to the frogs. 

27. " Would you like some of those pond-lilies ? " asked 
the young man. 

" Yes, indeed," exclaimed both the boys. 

28. " Then we will drive out and get some," replied the 
young man. "You are not afraid to go with me, are 
you?" 

" No, indeed ' " said the boys. 



44 THE FIFTH READER. 

29. "Then scramble over behind the seat," said ttie 
young man, "and I will drive out there, and back you 
down among the lily-pads, and you can get as many lilies 
as you like," * 



IV. — STONING THE FROGS. 

PART SECOND. 

MAEY OSBOBNE and Augustina were so much in- 
terested in watching the operation of backing the 
wagon into the water, that they forgot their desire to keep 
themselves concealed, and went down to the margin of the 
pond, and there stood in full view, looking on while the 
boys were gathering the lilies. 

2. "It is William Darricut," said Augustina to Mary 
Osborne, in a whisper. 

" Hush ! " said Mary Osborne. 

3. The party in the wagon did not see the two girls. 
The boys were busy gathering the lilies, and William Dar- 
ricut was watching the boys, to see that they did not lean 
over too far. 

4. " George," said Johnny, stopping suddenly, and point- 
ing to a little distance off over the water. " Look ! there 's 
a frog ! See ! " 

5. " Yes," said young Darricut. " He is sunning him- 
self. We won't hurt you, old fellow. We won't even 
frighten you if we can help it. Will we, boys ? " 

" No," said the boys. 

6. " If I only had a crust of bread here," said William 
Darricut, " I would feed him with the crumbs." 

The boys looked at the frog, but said nothing. 

7. " I wish he would come here and let us see him swim," 
continued the young man. " You don't know how elegantly 
he can swim. The best way, in fact, for a boy to leaxn to 
swim is to watch how one of these big pond-lily frogs pushes 
backwards with his hind paddles, and then draws his legs 
up to push again. 



STONING THE FROGS, 45 

8. M And yet I have known some boys to take pleasure 
in tormenting them and pelting them with stones. That is 
a bad sign. It is a sign of an ugly fellow to like to pelt 
frogs in a pond. 

9. " George," said the young man, suddenly interrupting 
himself, " would you like to drive the wagon up out of the 
water ?" 

"Yes," said George, eagerly. 

"Then give the little fellow your lilies to hold, and 
scramble back over here." 

10. George and Johnny both climbed along the side of 
the wagon back to the seat, and then, after Johnny had 
taken all the pond-lilies, George, with great pride and sat- 
isfaction, drove the wagon out to dry land. In the mean- 
time, the two girls had gone back into their place of retreat 
without having been observed. 

11. As soon as the wagon reached -the land, the boys got 
out of it, and William Darricut, after bidding them good-by, 
drove away. The two boys stood a moment on the shore 
at the place where the wagon had left them, without saying 
a word. 

12. Presently George began to push away with his foot 
the pile of stones which he had collected for ammunition, 
so as to scatter them about the shore. Johnny immediately 
began to do the same with his pile of stones. 

13. " That was a good fellow, was n't he, George ? " said he. 
"Yes," said George, "he was a real good fellow." 

14. Here there was another pause. George seemed to be 
feeling in the bottom of his pockets. 

Presently he said, "You have not got any crumbs of 
bread, or anything in your pockets, have you, Johnny ? " 

15. "No," said Johnny, beginning at the same time to 
feel in his pockets, " I don't think I have." 

" Because if we only had some crumbs," said George, " we 
might give them to the frogs." 

16. " I '11 give them my cake," said Mary Osborne, in an 
eager whisper to Augustina. She immediately left the 



46 THE FIFTH READER. 

peep-hole windows and went down around the rocks, by the 
little pathway near the water, followed closely by Augus- 
tina, and came out suddenly into view before the boys. 
They seemed amazed at this sudden apparition. 

17. " Here is a cake you may have to feed the frogs with," 
she said, at the same time holding out the cake tow T ard them. 

The boys hesitated a moment, appearing not to know 
what to do. At length George took the cake into his 
hand and looked at it. 

18. Presently, after a moment's pause, he said, " I wish 
you would let Johnny and me eat it, instead of giving it to 
the frogs." 

" Well," said Mary Osborne, " Johnny and you may have 
it." 

19. " And we '11 give you some of our pond-lilies," said 
Johnny. 

" Yes," said George, " so Ave will." 

20. Accordingly George broke the cake in two, and gave 
each of the girls two or three pond-lilies, as many aa they 
w T ere willing to take. 

21. Soon after this the two parties separated; the boys 
going away by the road, and the girls setting out on their 
return home by the pathway in which they came. 

Jacob Abbott. 



EXERCISE. 
[See Directions on page 38.] 

1. Johnny is a small boy, but he will do as tie big boy says. 

2. Augustina began gently to push away some of the leaves. 

3. The boys evinced a disposition to go on pelting the frogs. 

4. " My ! " he ejaculated. " I came within an inch of him." 

5. In a few minutes they heard the sound of wheels. 

6. The horse came to the margin of the water. 

7. The boys immediately scrambled up into the wagon. 

8. The girls forgot their desire to keep themselves concealed. 

9. They stood mfull view while the boys were gathering lilies. 

10. You don't know how elegantly a frog can swim. 

11. The girls came out suddenly into view before the boys. 

12. They seemed amazed at this sudden apparition. [Appearance.! 



THE DAY IS DONE. 47 

V.— THE DAT IS DOME. 
i. 

The day is done, and the darkness 

Falls from the wings of Night, 
As a feather is wafted downward 

From an eagle in his flight. 
I see the lights of the village 

Gleam through the rain and the mist, 
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, 

That my soul cannot resist — 

IT. 

A feeling of sadness and longing, 

That is not akin to pain, 
And resembles sorrow only 

As the mist resembles rain. 
Come, read to me some poem, 

Some simple and heartfelt lay, 
That shall soothe this restless feeling, 

And banish the thoughts of day. 

in. 
Not from the grand old masters, 

Not from the bards sublime, 
Whose distant footsteps echo 

Through the corridors of Time. 
For like strains o r martial music, 

Their mighty t noughts suggest 
Life's endless toil and endeavor ; 

And to-night I long for rest. 

IV. 

Read from some humbler poet, 

Whose songs gushed from his heart, 
As showers from the clouds of summer 5 

Or tears from the eyelids start; 
Who, through long days of labor, 

And nights devoid of ease, 
Still heard in his soul the music 

Of wonderful melodies. 



48 THE FIFTH READER. 



Such songs have power to quiet 

The restless pulse of care, 
And come like the benediction 

That follows after prayer. 
Then read from the treasured volume 

The poem of thy choice, 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 

The beauty of thy voice. 

VI. 

And the night shall be filled with music, 

And the cares, that infest the day, 
Snail fold their tents, like the Arabs, 

And as silently steal away. 

H. W. Longfellow 




VI. — THE TRUTH-SPEAKER. 

IN the year 1777 war was going on in this country, for 
King George the Third wanted to make unjust laws in 
America, but the people would not obey them. A Gov- 
ernor, whose name was Griswold, found himself in danger 
of bein<r seized by the Kind's soldiers, and took shelter in 

Tien *i 

a farm-house, which was the home of a relation. While 
hidden there he heard that a band of soldiers was on the 
road, with orders to search the farm and seize him. 

2. Griswold thought he would try to reach a small 
stream with deep banks on each side, where he had left a 



THE TRUTH-SPEAKER. 49 

boat which the passers-by could not see. In great haste he 
went out of the house to go through an orchard, where he 
found a young girl, about twelve years old, with her dog. 

3. They were watching some long pieces of linen cloth 
which lay around, stretched out in the sun, to bleach. 
Hetty was on a bank with her knitting, and near to her a 
pail of water, from which she sprinkled the cloth every 
now and then, to keep it in a damp state. She started up 
when a man leaped over the fence, but she soon saw it was 
her cousin. 

4. " Hetty," he said, " I shall lose my life unless I can 
get to the boat before the soldiers come. You see where 
the roads part, close by the orchard ; I want you to run 
down towards the shore, and meet the soldiers, who are 
sure to ask for me, and then you must tell them that I am 
gone up the road to catch the mail-cart, and they will turn 
off the other way." 

5. " But, cousin, how can I say so ? — it would not be 
true. 0, why did you tell me which way you were going ? " 

6. " Would you betray me, Hetty, and see me put to 
death ? Hark ! they are coming. I hear the clink of the 
horses' feet. Tell them I have gone up the road, and 
Heaven will bless you." 

7. " Those who speak false words^ will never be happy. 
But they shall not make me tell which way you go, even 
if they kill me, — so run as fast as you can." 

" It is too late to run. Where can I hide myself ? " 

8. " Be quick, cousin ! Come down and lie under this 
cloth ; I will throw it over you, and go on sprinkling the 
linen." 

" I will come down, for it is my last chance." 

9. He was soon hidden under the heavy folds of the long 
cloth. In a few minutes a party of horse-soldiers dashed 
along the road. An officer saw the girl, and called out to 
her in a loud voice, " Have you seen a man run by this way ? " 

" Yes, sir," replied Hetty. 

10. " Which way did he go ? " 



50 THE FIFTH READER. 

" I promised not to tell, sir." 

11. " But you must tell me this instant, or it will bo 
worse for you." 

" I will not tell, for I must keep my word." 

12. " Let me speak, for I think I know the child," said 
a man who was guide to the party. — " Is your name Hetty 
Marvin ? " 

"Yes, sir." 

13. " Perhaps the man who ran past you was your 
cousin ? " 

" Yes, sir, he was." 

14. " Well, we wish to speak with him. What did he 
say to you when he came by ? " 

" He told me that he had to run to save his life." 

15. " Just so, — that was quite true. I hope he will not 
have far to run. Where was he going to hide himself ? " 

16. "My cousin said that he would go to the river to 
find a boat, and he wanted me to tell the men in search* 
of him that he had gone the other way to meet the mail- 
cart." 

17. " You are a good girl, Hetty, and we know you 
speak truth. AVhat did your cousin say when he heard 
that you could not tell a lie to save his life ? " 

" He said, ' Would I betray him, and see him put to 
death ? ' " 

18. " And you said you would not tell, if you were 
killed for it." 

Poor Hetty's tears fell fast as she said, " Yes, sir." 

19. " Those were brave words, and I suppose he thanked 
you, and ran down the road as fast as he could ? " 

" I promised not to tell which way he went, sir." 

20. " yes, I forgot ; but tell me his last words, and I 
will not trouble you any more." 

" He said, f I will come down, for it is my last chance. 7 ,: 

21. Hetty was now in great fear ; she sobbed aloud, and 
hid her face in her apron. The soldiers thought they had 
got all they wanted to know, and rode off to the river-side. 



THE TRUTH-SPEAKER. 51 

22. While Griswold lay hid at the farm he had agreed 
upon a signal with his boatmen, that if in trouble he would 
put a white cloth by day, or a light at night, in the attic 
window of his hiding-place, and when either signal was 
seen, the men were to be on the watch ready to help him 
in case of need. 

23. No sooner did the soldiers ride away, than Griswold's 
friends in the house hung out a w T hite cloth from the win- 
dow, to warn the boatmen, who pulled out to sea when 
they saw the red coats of the soldiers as they dashed along 
the river-side. 

24. The boat, with two men in it, was nearly out of sight 
by the time the soldiers got to the shore, and this caused 
them to think that Griswold had made his escape. 

25. Meantime he lay safe and quiet until the time came 
for Hetty to go home to supper. Then he bid her go and 
ask her mother to put the signal-lamp in the window as 
soon as it grew dark, and send him clothes and food. The 
signal was seen, the boat came back, and Griswold made 
his way to it in safety. 

26. In better days, wdien the war w T as over, he named 
his first child Hetty Marvin, that he might daily think of 
the brave young cousin w r hose sense and truth-speaking had 
saved his life. Miss Crompton. 



EXERCISE. 

1. He was in danger of being seized by the king's soldiers. 

2. In great haste he went out of the house. 

3. The linen was stretched in the sun to bleach. 

4. She started up when a man leaped, over the fence. 

5. You see where the roads part, close by the orchard. 

6. Would you betray me, and see me put to death. 

7. Those who speak false words will never be happy. 

8. In a fe*w minutes a party of soldiers dashed along the road. 

9. The boatmen pulled out to sea when they saw the soldiers. 

10. They thought he had made his escape. 

11. He bid her go and ask her mother to put the lamp in the window. 

12. The signal was seen and the boat came back. 



52 THE FIFTH READER. 



VII. — COME AND GO. 

i. 

DICK DAWDLE had land worth two hundred a year, 
Yet from debt and from dunning he never was free ; 
His intellect was not surprisingly clear, 
But he never felt satisfied how it could be. 

ii. 

The raps at his door, and the rings at his gate, 
And the threats of a jail he no longer could bear ; 

So he made up his mind to sell half his estate, 

Which would pay all his debts, and leave something, to spare. 

in. 

He leased to a farmer the rest of his land 

For twenty-one years ; and on each quarter day 

The honest man went with the rent in his hand 
His liberal landlord, delighted, to pay. 

IV. 

Before half the term of the lease had expired, 

The farmer one day, with a bag full of gold, 
Said, " Pardon me, sir, but I long have desired 

To purchase my farm, if the land can be sold. 

v. 

" Ten years I 've been blest with success arid with health ; 

With trials a few, — I thank God, not severe. 
I am grateful, I hope, though not proud of my wealth, 

But I 've managed to lay by a hundred a year." 

VI. 

"Why, how," exclaimed Dick, "can this possibly be?" 
(With a stare of surprise, and a mortified laugh ;) 

u The ivhole of my farm proved too little for me, 
And you, it appears, have grown rich upon half." 



SIR WALTER RALEIOxH AND HIS TWO PLANTS. 53 
VII. 

" I hope you '11 excuse me," the farmer replies, 

" But I '11 tell you the cause, if your Honor would know ; 

In two little words all the difference lies, 
I always say come, and you used to say go" 

VIII. 

" Well, and what does that mean, my good fellow 1 " he said. 

" Why this, sir, that /always rise w T ith the sun ; 
You said ' go ' to your mau, as you lay in your bed, 

I say ' Come, Jack, wdth me,' and I see the work done." 

R. S. Sharpe. 



VIII. — SIR WALTER RALEIGH AND HIS 
TWO PLANTS. 

DURING the reign of Queen Elizabeth, — now three 
hundred years ago, — that famous soldier and states- 
man, Sir Walter Raleigh, did some very remarkable things. 
He made a voyage to America, where he discovered Vir- 
ginia, — which was named after the Virgin Queen, — and, 
returning home, carried with him two plants, the use of 
which he had learned of the Indians. 

2. One was the potato, which had never before been seen 
in a civilized country. The other was destined to become 
quite as celebrated, if not so useful. This was the tobacco- 
plant. 

3. Shortly after Sir Walter's return home, a servant came 
into his room one morning and found him sitting before 
the fire, with his head thrown back and with smoke pour- 
ing out of his mouth. The poor fellow, who had never 
heard of tobacco nor seen a pipe before, thought his master 
was on fire, and ran, in great terror, for water to put him out ! 
Before Sir Walter had time to explain, a cold bucketful was 
dashed over him, and he was drenched from head to foot. 

4. But very soon the old servant got used to seeing peo- 
ple with smoke coming out of their mouths, in his master's 



54 THE FIFTH READER. 

house. Then all the young nobles of the court began to 
smoke because the famous Sir Walter did. He was a 
very accomplished smoker ; he even claimed that he could 
tell, to a grain's weight, how much smoke came from his pipe. 

5. " Prove it, Sir Walter," the Queen said to him one 
day. " Your Majesty shall see the proof," he replied. And 
having weighed carefully the tobacco he put into his pipe, 
he smoked it in her presence. He then put the ashes on 
the scale, and found that they weighed much less. 

6. " Truly, Sir Walter," laughed Elizabeth, " you have 
carried your point ; for the difference in weight shows in- 
deed how much has passed away in the smoke." 

7. But while tobacco was held in such high favor, the 
other plant — the poor, homely, useful potato — was long 
looked upon with contempt ; like those plain, unpretending 
persons whom we are so apt to slight at first, but who often 
turn out to be our best friends. 

8. Sir Walter found plenty of people ready to use his 
tobacco, but few willing to eat his potato. He urged its 
cultivation in England ; " because," said he, " when the 
corn-harvest fails, as it so often does, then the people need 
not starve if they have plenty of potatoes.'' 

9. The Queen listened to him, and caused the new veg- 
etable to be served up at her own table, when the grand 
people who dined with her were obliged to eat of it. To 
revenge themselves upon the innocent potato, they went 
away and spread a report that it was actually poisonous. 

10. There was some show of foundation for this false 
report, the potato belonging to the same order as the dead- 
ly nightshade and other poisonous plants. So, in spite of 
all that even the Queen could do, the English people re- 
fused to accept it as wholesome food, and it was left for 
the pigs. 

11. Not until the reign of King Louis XVI. of France 
were the real virtues of this vegetable made known to the 
world. In this reism there lived a man who was verv 
successful in growing plants for food. He found the potato 



HIAWATHA'S HUNTING. 55 

very different from the mealy palatable root which we now 
know and like so well ; but lie felt sure that, with cultiva- 
tion, it could be made a great blessing to the country. 

12. People laughed at him for his pains. But he went 
on growing the potato till he had brought it to perfection. 
Even then, no one would have eaten it if the King had 
not taken its part. The King had large pieces of ground 
planted with it, and he went about with the flower of the 
potato in his button-hole. 

13. No one dared laugh at the King ; and when he said 
potatoes were to be eaten, people began to find out how 
good and wholesome they were. 

14. By degrees they were more and more liked. In 
these days there is no vegetable that is so highly prized. 
We could not well do without the potato ; but we might 
dispense <¥itli tobacco. 



IX. — HIA WATHA'S HUNTING. 

i. 

THEN the little Hiawatha 
Learned of every bird its language, 
Learned their names and all their secrets, 
How they built their nests in summer, 
Where they hid themselves in winter, 
Talked with them whene'er he met them, 
CaUed them " Hiawatha's Chickens." 

IT. 

Of all beasts he learned the language, 
Learned their names and all their secrets, 
How the beavers built their lodges, 
Where the squirrels hid their acorns, 
How the reindeer ran so swiftly, 
Why the rabbit was so timid, 
Talked with them whene'er he met them, 
Called them " Hiawatha's Brothers." 



56 THE FIFTH READER. 

ill. 
Then Iagoo the great boaster, 
He the marvelous story-teller, 
He the traveler and the talker, 
Made a bow for Hiawatha ; 
From a branch of ash he made it, 
From an oak-bough made the arrows, 
Tipped with flint, and winged with feathers, 
And the cord he made of deer-skin. 

IV. 

Then he said to Hiawatha! 
" Go, my son, into the forest, 
Where the red deer herd together, 
Kill for us a famous roebuck, 
Kill for us a deer with antlers ! 

v. 
Forth into the forest straightway 
All alone walked Hiawatha 
Proudly, with his bow and arrows ; 
And the birds sang round him, o'er him, 
" Do not shoot us, Hiawatha ! " 
Sang the robin, sang the bluebird, 
" Do not shoot us, Hiawatha ! " 

VI. 

Up the oak-tree, close beside him, 
Sprang the squirrel, lightly leaping 
In and out among the branches \ 
Coughed and chattered from the oak-tree, 
Laughed and said, between his laughing, 
"Do not shoot me, Hiawatha ! " 

VII. 

And the rabbit from his pathway 
Leaped aside, and at a distance 
Sat erect upon his haunches, 
Half in fear and half in frolic, 
Saying to the little hunter, 
" Do not shoot me, Hiawatha ! " 



HIAWATHA'S HUNTING. 57 

VIII. 

But he heeded not, nor heard them, 
For his thoughts were with the red deer ; 
On their tracks his eyes were fastened, 
Leading downward to the river, 
To the ford across the river, 
And as one in slumber walked he. 

IX. 

Hidden in the alder-bushes, 
There he waited till the deer came, 
Till he saw two antlers lifted, 
Saw two eyes look from the thicket, 
Saw two nostrils point to windward, 
And the deer came down the pathway. 
Flecked with leafy light and shadow. 
And his heart within him fluttered, 
Trembled like the leaves above him, 
Like the birch-leaf palpitated, 
As the deer came down the pathway. 

x. 

Then, upon one knee uprising, 
Hiawatha aimed an arrow ; 
Scarce a twig moved with his motion, 
Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled, 
But the wary roebuck darted, 
Stamped with all his hoofs together, 
Listened with one foot uplifted, 
Leaped as if to meet the arrow ; 
Ah ! the singing, fatal arrow, 
Like a wasp it buzzed, and stung him. 

XI. 

Dead he lay there in the forest, 
By the ford across the river ; 
Beat his timid heart no longer ; 
But the heart of Hiawatha 
Throbbed and shouted and exulted, 
As he bore the red deer homeward. 

Longfellow. 



58 THE FIFTH READER. 

X. — IN WANT OF A PLACE. 

Mr. Lawrence Newt, Merchant Gabriel Bennett, in Want of a Place, 
Scene. — Mr. Newt's Counting-Room. 

f^\ ABEIEL {enters). May I see Mr. Newt, sir ? 

VJJT Mr. Newt That is my name. Please be short. It 's 

packet day. 

G. Please, sir, I want a place. 

Mr. N. What kind of a place ? 

G. In a store, sir. 

Mr. N. I Ve no place for you. 

G. Have n't you ? Excuse me. 

Mr. N. Wait. Sit down while I finish these letters ; 
then we 11 talk about it. 

G. {aside). 0, how nice it would be to have something 
to do — to earn my own living — in such a place as this ! 
How glad they would be at home ! 

Mr. N. {to clerk). Thomas, please have these letters cop- 
ied. Brisk is the word this morning, you know. — Now, 
young man, tell me what you want. 

G. My father 's been unfortunate, sir, and I want to do 
something for myself. He advised me to come to you, sir. 

Mr. N. Why to me ? 

G. He said you might give me good advice if you 
could n't give me a place. 

Mr. N. Been unfortunate, has he ? 

G. Yes, sir. 

Mr. N. Lost his health ? 

G. No, sir. 

Mr. N. Broken a leg ? 

G. No, sir. 

Mr. N. Daughter married a drunkard ? 

G. No, sir. 

Mr. N. Lost his friends ? or his reputation ? 

G. He has lost his money, sir. 

Mr. N. O, ho ! his money ! That 's what you call un- 
fortunate. 



IN WANT OF A PLACE. 59 

G. Is n't that enough so ? 

Mr. N. Think a moment ; — money, — has your father 
anything else he could so well spare ? Has he any super- 
fluous boy or girl ? 

G. I think not ! 

Mr. JV. *A useless arm ? 

G. no ! 

Mr. N. Or his eyesight, or his honor, — could he do 
without these ? Come, what is there he could better lose 
than money ? 

G. I suppose worse things could happen to us than 
poverty. 

Mr. N. Is it possible ! Why, then, when people speak 
of a man being unfortunate, do they always mean that he 
has lost property? — as if property were the only really 
good thing in the world ! — What 's your name ? 

G. Gabriel Bennett. 

Mr. N. You look like a good, strong boy, Gabriel Have 
you ever been in a store ? 

G. No ; I only left school last week. I left because — 

Mr. N. Because your father was unfortunate. I under- 
stand. Well, the loss of money is a misfortune, since it 
involves the loss of other things. So, you did n't wish to 
leave school, eh ? 

G. 0, sir ! if I only could have kept on ! But of 
course I could n't. I must earn my own living now. 

Mr. N. Ay, ay, and I 've no doubt that will prove your 
best education. It will give you experience, knowledge 
of the world, character. Manhood is better than Greek 
Self-reliance is worth more to a man than Latin. 

G. I 'd rather have them and Greek and Latin too. 

Mr. N. But what if you cannot ? 

G. {laughing). Then I '11 take what I can get. 

Mr. N. That 's the way to talk ! When the man sent 
for cake, — " John," says he, " if you can't get cake, get 
smelts." He was a wise man. 

G. But what if I can't even get smelts ? 



60 



THE FIFTH HEADER. 



Mr. N. Eh ? 
G. I mean, — a place. 

Mr. JV. Ha, ha ! Well ! we '11 see about that. — Thomas 
Tray, this is our youngest clerk, Gabriel Bennett. Gabriel, 




this is our head clerk, Mr. Tray. 1 hope you will get along 
well together. Gabriel, mind Thomas ! Thomas, be good 
to Gabriel! 

G. 0, sir ! what will my father say ? 

Mr. N. Not that he is unfortunate, I hope, as long as he 
has such a son as you ! Introduce him to the other clerks, 
Thomas, and give him a stool. {Gabriel and clerk go out.) 
— Am not I a fortunate man ? I 'd rather do a good turn 
for a lad like that than make a thousand dollars. 

G. W. Curtis, — Adapted. 



THE MILKMAID. 61 



XI. — THE MILKMAID. 



A MILKMAID, who poised a full pail on her head, 
Thus mused on her prospects in life, it is said : 
" Let 's see — I should think that this milk would procure 
One hundred good eggs, or fourscore to be sure. 



ii. 



" Well, then — stop a bit — it must not be forgotten, 
Some of these may be broken, and some may be rotten ; 
But if twenty for accidents should be detached, 
It will leave me just sixty sound eggs to be hatched. 

in. 

" Well — sixty sound eggs — no, sound chickens I mean ; 
Of these some may die — we '11 suppose seventeen ; — 
Seventeen ! — not so many — say ten at the most, 
Which will leave fifty chickens to boil or to roast. 

IV. 

" But, then, there 's their barley : how much will they need? 
Why, they take but one grain at a time when they feed ; 
So that 's a mere trifle ; — now, then, let us see, 
At a fair market price, how much money there '11 be. 



" Six shillings a pair — five — four — three-and-six ; 
To prevent all mistakes, that low price I will fix ; 
Now, what will that make 1 — fifty chickens I said — 
Fifty times three-and-sixpence — I'll ask Brother Ned. 

VI. 

" 0, but stop ! — three-and-sixpence a pair I must sell 'em 
"Well, a pair is a couple — now, then, let us tell 'em ; 
A couple in fifty will go — (my poor brain !) — 
Why, just a score times, and five pair will remain. 



62 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

vu. „ 
* Twenty-five pair of fowls — now how plaguesome it is 
That I can't reckon up as much money as this ! 
Well, there 's no use in trying ; so let 's give a guess ; 
I will say twenty pounds, and it can't be much less. 

VIII. 

" Twenty pounds, I am certain, will buy me a cow. 
Thirty geese, two turkeys, and eight pigs, anyhow ; 
Now, if these turn out well, at the end of the year 
I shall fill both my pockets with guineas, 't is clear. 

IX. 

" Then I '11 bid that old tumble-down hovel good-by ; 
My mother she '11 scold, and my sisters they '11 cry ; 
But I won't care a crow's egg for all they can say ; 
I sha' n't go to stop with such beggars as they ! " 

x. 

But forgetting her burden, when this she had said, 
The maid superciliously tossed up her head ; 
When, alas for her prospects ! her milk-pail descended ; 
And so all her schemes for the future were ended. 

XI. 

This moral, I think, may be safely attached : 
Reckon not on your chickens before they are hatched. 

Jeffreys Taylor, 



EXERCISE. 

1. A milkmaid poised a full pail on her head. 

2. She mused on her prospects in life. 

3. This milk will procure fourscore good eggs. 

4. How plaguesome it is that I can't reckon up so much money. 

5. I will bid that tumble-doivn hovel good-by. 

6. She forgot her burden when she had said this. 

7. The maid superciliously tossed up her head. 

8. Her milk-pail descended; and so all her schemes for the future 

were ended. 



THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 03 

XI I. — THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 

IT Mas towards the last of June, 1759, that the English 
army under General Wolfe landed on the Island of 
Orleans, a few miles below Quebec. Here Wolfe had an 
opportunity to examine the difficulties he had to overcome. 
He perceived that they were very great, but declared to 
his friends that he would either take the city or die in 
the attempt. 

2. He devised various schemes, and made several efforts, 
but without guccess. Montcalm, the French commander, 
was exceedingly vigilant, and even the confident spirit of 
Wolfe began to be dejected. 

3. But at length a narrow path was discovered, by 
which the soldiers might climb the heights of Abraham, 
and thus overlook the forts and the town. Wolfe knew 
that if he could get possession of these heights, he should 
obtain a great advantage. Accordingly, he resolved to 
make the attempt. But it was necessary that the enter- 
prise should be conducted with the greatest secrecy. 

4. In the stillness of night, a part of the army landed 
at the foot of the cliff which overhung the river. They 
were ready to climb the rocks by daybreak. Wolfe was 
himself among them, and they began their difficult task. 

5. Clambering up the steep, they caught hold of roots > 
bushes, and angles of the rocks, and at length stood safe 
upon the plain above. Before sunrise the whole army had 
gained the heights, and were all arranged under their sev- 
eral leaders. 

6. When Montcalm heard of all this, he thought it im- 
possible, and would not believe the story ; but he soon 
found it to be true. Knowing that he must now come 
to battle, he drew out his men upon the plain in front 
of the English army. 

7. When all was ready, the French advanced briskly. 
The English stood still, and received them with a dread- 
ful fire. A fierce engagement followed, and after a long 



64 THE FIFTH READER. 

struggle the French were defeated. Montcalm and Wolfe 
were both mortally wounded. 

8. General Wolfe died on the field of battle. He had 
received a bullet in his wrist, and another in his leg ; but 
he concealed these wounds, and pressed into the thickest 
of the fight. But by and by he was shot in the body, and 
carried off the field. 

9. When he was dying, he heard some one say, "They fly! 
they fly ! " " AVho fly ? " said he. " The French," was the 
answer. " Then I die contented," saidihe hero, and expired. 

10. Five days after this battle, Quebec surrendered to 
the English, and it has ever since remained in their pos- 
session. S. G. Goodrich. 



XIII. — THE CHAMELEON. 

i. 

OFT has it been my lot to mark 
A proud, conceited, talking spark, 
With eyes that hardly served at most 
To guard their master 'gainst a post ; 
Yet round the world the blade has been, 
To see whatever could be seen. 

ii. 
Returning from his finished tour, 
Grown ten times perter than before, 
Whatever word you chance to drop, 
The traveled fool your mouth w T ill stop : 
" Sir, if my judgment you '11 allow — 
I 've seen — and sure I ought to know/' 
So begs you 'd pay a due submission, 
And acquiesce in his decision. 

in. 
Two travelers of such a cast, 
As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed, 
And on their way, in friendly chat, 
Now talked of this, and then of that, 



THE CHAMELEON. 65 

Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter. 
Of the chameleon's form and nature. 

IV. 

•• A stranger animal," cries one, 
" Sure never lived beneath the sun ; 
A lizard's body, lean and long, 
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, 
Its foot with triple claw disjoined ; 
And what a length of tail behind ! 
How slow its pace ! and then its hue — 
Who ever saw so fine a blue ! " — 

v. 
" Hold there," the other quick replies, 
" 'T is green ; I saw it with these eyes, 
As late with open mouth it lay, 
And warmed it in the sunny ray : 
Stretched at its ease the beast I viewed, 
And saw it eat the air for food." 

VI. 

" I 've seen it, sir, as well as you, 
And must again affirm it blue ; 
At leisure I the beast surveyed 
Extended in the cooling shade." 

VII. 

" 'T is green, 't is green, sir, I assure ye." 
" Green ! " cries tha other in a fury : 
" Why, sir, d' ye think I 've lost my eyes ? ' 
" 'T were no great loss," the friend replies ; 
" For if they always serve you thus, 
You '11 find them of but little use." 

VIII. 

So high at last the contest rose, 
From words they almost came to blows : 
When, luckily, came by a third ; 
To him the question they referred, 
And begged he 'd tell them, if he knew, 
Whether the thing was green or blue. 



66 THE FIFTH READER. 

IX. 

u Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother 

The creature 's neither one nor t' other. 

I caught the animal last night, 

And viewed it o'er by candle-light ; 

I marked it well ; 't was black as jet. 

You stare ; but, sirs, I 've got it yet, 

And can produce it." " Pray, sir, do \ 

I '11 lay my life the thing is blue." 

•' And I '11 oe sworn, that when you 've seen 

The reptile, you '11 pronounce him green." 

x. 
" Well, then, at once to end the doubt," 
Replies the man, " I '11 turn him out ; 
And when before your eyes I 've set him, 
If you don't find him black, I '11 eat him." 
He said ; and full before their sight 
Produced the beast, and lo ! — 't was white. 

XI, 

Both stared ; the man looked wondrous wise : 
" My children," the chameleon cries 
(Then first the creature found a tongue), 
" You all are right, and all are wrong : 
When next you talk of what you view, 
Think others see as well as you : 
Nor wonder if you find that none 
Prefers your eyesight to his own." 

Merrick, 



EXERCISE. 

In the following sentences the scholar will change as mam 
words or phrases as he can without altering the sense. 

1. I have often observed a haughty, vain, prating fellow. 

2. He returns from a finished tour, grown ten times perter than 
before. 

6. He asks you to submit, and rest satisfied with his conclusion. 

4. Two travelers of such a cast passed over the wilds of Arabia. 

5. The foot of a chameleon is with triple claw disjoined. 
*6. "Sirs," cries the umpire, "cease your pother*" 



HAYING. 67 

XIV.— HAYING. 

IT is five o'clock. The morning is clear and fresh. A 
thin blue film of mist hovers over the circuit of the 
Housatonic along the. mountain belt. A hundred birds — 
yes, live hundred — are singing as birds never sing except 
in the morning. 

2. In our house the girls are astir, and the mystery of 
breakfast is developing. The little dog is so glad after the 
lonesome night to see you, that he surfeits you with frolic. 
The men are in the barn feeding the horses, and getting 
everything ready for work. 

3. Will it rain to-day ? The heavens overhead look like 
it. But the barometer says, No. Then a few rounds with 
the scythe before breakfast, just by way of getting the path 
open. 

4. There they go, a pretty pair of mowers ! The blink- 
ing dew-drops on the grass-tops wink at them and pitch 
headlong under the stroke of the swinging scythe. How 
low and musical is the sound of a scythe in its passage 
through a thick pile of grass ! It has a craunching, mel- 
low, murmuring sound, right pleasant to hear. 

5. The grass, rolled over in a swath to the left, green 
and wet, lies like a loosely corded cable, vast and half 
twined. Around the piece, step by step, go the men, and 
the work is fairly laid out and begun. 

6. There sounds the horn ! Breakfast is ready. All the 
children are farmer's boys for the occasion. Were Sevas- 
topol built of bread and cakes, these are the very engineers 
who would take it. 

7. Bless their appetites ! It does one good to see grow- 
ing children eat with a real hearty appetite. Mountain 
air, a free foot in grassy fields and open groves, plain food 
and enough of it, — these things kill the lilies in the 
cheek and bring forth roses. 

8. But we must haste, and make hay while the sun 
shines. Already John Dargan is there whetting his 



68 THE FIFTH READER. 

scythe, — John, tough as a knot, strong as steel, famous in 
all the region for ploughing, and equally skilful at mowing, 
turning his furrow and cutting his sw r ath alike smoothly 
and evenly. If Ireland has any more such farmers to 
spare, let them come on. 

9. The Man of the Farm strikes in first ; John follows, 
and away they go, up the hill, toward the sun. The grass 
is full of dew, which quivers in the sunlight, and winks 
and flashes by turns all the colors of the rainbow. Bound 
and round the field they go, with steady swing, the grass- 
plat growing less at every turn. 

10. Meanwhile all the boys have been at work spread- 
ing the grass. The hay-cocks of yesterday have been 
opened. The noon comes on. It is time to house the hay. 

11. The day passes and the night. With another morn- 
ing,, and that Saturday morning, comes up the sun without 
a single cloud to wipe his face upon. The air is clear and 
crystal. No mist on the river. No fleece on the mountains 

12. Yet the barometer is sinking, — has been sinking all 
night. It has fallen more than a quarter of an inch, and 
continues slowly to fall. Our plans must be laid accord- 
ingly. We will cut the clover, and prepare to get in all of 
yesterday's mowing before two o'clock. 

13. One load we roll in before dinner. While catching 
our hasty meal, affairs grow critical. The sun is hidden. 
The noon is dark. All hands are summoned. 

14. Now if you wish to see pretty working, follow the 
cart ; — the long forks leap into the cocks of hay ; to a 
backward lift they spring up, poise a moment in the air 
shoot forward, are caught upon the load by the nimble 
John, and in a twinkling are in their place. 

15. We hear thunder ! Lii>-htnin<>s flash on the horizon. 
Jim and Frank and Henry Sumner are springing at the 
clover, rolling it into heaps and dressing it down so as to 
shed rain. There are no lazy-bones there ! 

16. Even we ourselves wake up and go to work. AH 
the girls and ladies come forth to the fray. Delicate bauds 



b 



HAYING. 69 

are making lively work, raking up the dispersed grass, and 
Hying with right nimble steps here and there, bent upon 
cheating the rain of its expected prey. 

17. And now the long windrows are formed. The last 
load of hay from the other fields has just rolled triumph- 
antly into the barn ! Down jumps John, with fork in hand, 
and rolls up the windrows into cocks. We follow 7 and glean 
with the rake. The last one is fashioned. 

18. A drop pats down on my face, — another, and 
another. Look at those baseless mountains that tower in 
the west, black as ink at the bottom, glowing like snow at 
the top edges ! Far in the north the rain has begun to 
streak down upon old Greylock ! 

19. But the sun is shining -through the shower, and 
changing it to a golden atmosphere, in which the mountain 
lifts up its head like a glorified martyr amid his persecu- 
tions ! Only a look can we spare, and all of us run for the 
house, and in good time. 

20. Down comes the flood, and every drop is musical. 
We pity the neighbors .who, not warned by a barometer, 
are racing and chasing to secure their outlying crop. 

H. W. Beecher. 



EXERCISE. 

1 A thin mist hovers over the river. 

2. We will cut the clover, and prepare to get in yesterday's mow- 

ing. 

3. The heavens overhead look like rain. 

4. These things kill the lilies in the cheek and bring forth roses. 

5. We must haste, and make hay while the sun shines. 

6. They poise a moment in the air, 

7. All the girls and ladies come forth to the fray. [Contest.] 
f\ Delicate hands are raking up the dispersed grass. 

9. They are flying with right nimble steps here and there. 

10. Look at the mountains that toicer m the west, 

11. All of us run for the house, and in good time. 

12. Down comes the flood, and every drop is musical. [Pleasing to 

the ear.] 
1.3. The neighbors are racing and chasing to secure their hay. 



70 THE FIFTH READER. 



XV. — BRING BACK MY FLOWERS. 



A CHILD sat by a limpid stream, 
And gazed upon the tide beneath • 
Upon her cheek was joy's bright beam, 

And on her brow a blooming wreath. 
Her lap was filled with fragrant flowers, 

And, as the clear brook babbled by. 
She scattered down the rosy showers, 

With many a wild and joyous cry, 
And laughed to see the mingling tide 
Upon its onward progress glide. 

ii. 

And time flew on, and flower by flower 

Was cast upon the sunny stream ; 
But when the shades of eve did lower, 

She woke up from her blissful dream. 
" Bring back my flowers ! " she wildly cried ; 

" Bring back the flowers I flung to thee ! " 
But echo's voice alone replied, 

As danced the streamlet down the lea ; 
And still, amid night's gloomy hours, 
In vain she cried, " Bring back my flowers ! " 

in. 

maiden, who on time's swift stream 

Dost gayly see the moments flee, 
In this poor child's delusive dream 

An emblem may be found of thee ! 
Each moment is a perfumed rose, 

Into thy hand by mercy given, 
That thou its fragrance might dispose 

And let its incense rise to heaven ; 
Else when death's shadow o'er thee lowers, 
Thy heart will wail, " Bring back my flowers ! " 



THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 71 

TZVI. — THII BOSTON MASSACRE. 

IT was now the 3d of March, 1770. The sunset music 
of the British regiments was heard, as usual, through- 
out the town. The, shrill fife and rattling drum awoke the 
echoes in King Street, while the last ray of sunshine was 
lingering on the cupola of the town-house. 

2. And now, all the sentinels were posted. One of them 
marched up and down before the custom-house, treading a 
short path through the snow, and longing for the time when 
he would be dismissed to the warm fireside of the guard- 
room. 

3. In the course of the evening there were two or three 
slight commotions, which seemed to indicate that trouble 
was at hand. Small parties of young men stood at the 
corners of the streets, or walked along the narrow pave- 
ments. Squads of soldiers, who were dismissed from duty, 
passed by them, shoulder to shoulder, with the regular step 
which they had learned at the drill. Whenever these en- 
counters took place, it appeared to be the object of the 
young men to treat the soldiers with as much incivility as 
possible. 

4 " Turn out, you lobster-backs ! " one would say. 
" Crowd them off the sidewalks ! " another would cry. 
" A red-coat has no right in Boston streets." 

5 " 0, you rebel rascals ! " perhaps the soldiers would 
reply, glaring fiercely at the young men. " % Some day or 
other we '11 make our way through Boston streets, at the 
point of the bayonet ! " 

6. Once or twice such disputes as these brought on a 
scuffle ; which passed off, however, without attracting much 
notice. About eight o'clock, for some unknown cause, 
an alarm-bell rang loudly and hurriedly 

7 At the sound many people ran out of their houses, 
supposing it to be an alarm of fire. But there were no 
flames to be seen, nor was there any smell of smoke in 
the clear, frosty air , so that most of the townsmen went 



72 THE FIFTH READER. 

back to their own firesides. Others, who were youngei 
and less prudent, remained in the streets. 

8. Later in the evening, not far from nine o'clock, sev- 
eral young men passed down King Street towards the cus- 
tom-house. When they drew near the sentinel, he halted 
on his post, and took his musket from his shoulder, ready 
to present the bayonet at their breasts. 

" Who goes there ? " he cried, in the gruff tones of a 
soldier's challenge. 

9. The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they 
had a right to walk in their ow 7 n streets, without being 
accountable to a British red-coat. They made some rude 
answer to the sentinel. There w r as a dispute, or, perhaps, 
a scuffle. Other soldiers heard the noise, and ran hastily 
from the barracks, to assist their comrade. 

10. At the same time many of the towns-people rushed 
into King Street, by various avenues, and gathered in a 
crowd about the custom-house. It seemed wonderful how 
such a multitude had started up, all of a sudden. 

11. The wrongs and insults which the people had been 
suffering for many months now kindled them into a rage. 
They threw snowballs and lumps of ice at the soldiers. 
A.s the tumult grew louder, it reached the ears of Captain 
Preston, the officer of the day. He immediately ordered 
eight soldiers of the main guard to take their muskets and 
follow him. They inarched across the street, forcing their 
way roughly through the crowd, and pricking the towns- 
people with their bayonets. 

12. A gentleman (it was Henry Knox, afterwards Gen- 
eral of the American Artillery) caught Captain Preston's 
arm. 

"For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, "take heed what 
you do, or here will be bloodshed ! " 

13. " Stand aside ! " answered Captain Preston, haughtily 
" Do not interfere, sir. Leave me to manage the affair." 

14. Arriving at the sentinel's post, Captain Preston drew 
up his men in a semicircle, with their faces to the crowd. 



THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 73 

Wlien the people saw the officer, and beheld the threaten- 
ing attitude with which the soldiers fronted them, their 
rage became almost uncontrollable. 

15. " Fire, you lobster-backs !" bellowed some. 

" You dare not fire, you cowardly red-coats," cried others. 

16. " Rush upon them ! " shouted many voices. " Drive 
the rascals to their barracks ! Down with them ! Down 
with them ! Let them fire, if they dare I " 

Amid the uproar the soldiers stood glaring at the people 
with the fierceness of men whose trade was to shed blood. 

17. 0, what a crisis had now arrived ! Up to this very 
moment, the angry feelings between England and America 
might have been 'pacified. England had but to stretch out 
the hand of reconciliation, and acknowledge that she had 
hitherto mistaken her rights, but would do so no more. 
Then the ancient bonds of brotherhood would again have 
been knit together as firmly as in old times. 

18. But, should the king's soldiers shed one drop of 
American blood, then it was a quarrel to the death. 
Never, never would America rest satisfied, until she 
had torn down the royal authority, and trampled it in 
the dust. 

19. "Fire, if you dare, villains !" hoarsely shouted the 
people, while the muzzles of the muskets were turned 
upon them ; " you dare not fire ! " 

20. They appeared ready to rush upon the leveled 
bayonets. Captain Preston waved his sword, and uttered 
a command which could not be distinctly heard amid the 
uproar of shouts that issued from a hundred throats. But 
his soldiers deemed that he had spoken the fatal mandate, 
" Fire ! " The flash of their muskets lighted up the street, 
and the report rang loudly between the edifices. 

21 A gush of smoke overspread the scene. It rose 
heavily, as if it were loath to reveal the dreadful specta- 
cle beneath it. Eleven of the sons of New England lay 
stretched upon the street. Some, sorely wounded, were 
Struggling to rise again. Others stirred not, nor groaned. 



74 THE FIFTH READER. 

for they were past all pain. Blood was streaming upon 
the snow; and that purple stain, in the midst of King 
Street, though it melted away in the next day's sun, was 
never forgotten nor forgiven by the people. 

N. Hawthorne. 



XVII. —A SONG FROM THE SUDS. 

i. 

QUEEN of my tub, I merrily sing, 
While the white foam rises high ; 
And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring, 

And fasten the clothes to dry ; 
Then out in the free fresh air they swing, 
Under the sunny sky. 

ii. 

I wish we could wash from our hearts and souls 

The stains of the week away, 
And let water and air by their magic make 

Ourselves as pure as they ; 
Then on earth there would be indeed 

A glorious washing-day ! 

in. 
Along the path of a useful life 

Will heart' s-ease ever bloom ; 
The busy mind has no time to think 

Of sorrow, or care, or gloom ; 
And anxious thoughts may be swept away ? 

As we busily wield a broom. 

IV. 

I am glad a task to me is given, 

To labor at, day by day ; 
For it brings me health, and strength, and hope, 

And 1 cheerfully learn to say, — 

" Head, you may think ; Heart, you may feel, 

But, Hand, you shall work alway." 

Louisa M. Alcott. 



MY HUNT AFTER THE BABY. 



XVIII — MY HUNT AFTER THE BABY. 

Ill AD been to the corn-lot in the hope of finding a few 
roasting-ears for supper ; but there were none ripe 
enough, so I walked slowdy back to the house, with my 
hands under my apron to save them from sunburn ; and the 
moment I stepped into the sitting-room I saw T the baby 
was missing. 

2. The baby was one that had been left with us, — sister 
Bell and me, — while the dear mamma went to see dear papa, 
sick in a far-away hospital. It was a plump, peachy little 
thing, nearly a year old, named Maude, familiarly called 
Madge, and more familiarly Midget. 

3. She was full of mischief as she could hold, crept all 
about the house, throwing things out of doors or into the 
fire, as came handiest, thrust her hands behind her and 
screeched like a hyena if any one approached to interfere 
with her operations, and slept about fifteen minutes twice 
a day. 

4. Her usual time to be crawling around underfoot was 
in the early part of the day, when the kitchen-work was in 
progress ; in the afternoon, wdien the work was all clone. 
and we were ready for a frolic with her babyship, the little 
nuisance might generally be found sequestered in a corner, 
hugging a bosom full of matches, or sticking postage-stamps 
all over her chubby arms. 

5. But this time I had left her asleep. She must have 
been asleep, for she did n*t wink ; and when the little de- 
ceiver was hoaxing me she ahvays winked desperately. I 
laid her on a rug in a cool corner, and, leaving the door 
open, walked down to the corn-field and back again in 
about seven minutes, as nearly as I could judge. 

6. The baby w^as missing ! There w 7 as the print of her 
little moist head on the pillow, there were the little blue 
hints of shoes, just as she had kicked them off' in her play. 
Hurriedly I w r ent through room after room, searching and 



76 THE FIFTH READER. 

calling. Not a glimpse of the little white frock, not a lisp 
from the prattling tongue. 

7. " Baby ! baby ! where are you ? " I cried. dear Mr. 
T. B. Aldrich ! It was n't our baby you had in mind, was it, 
when you wrote those sweet lines, — 

" where is our dainty, our darling, 
The daintiest darling of all, — Little Maude ? " 

8. Bushing to the head of the stairs, " Bell ! " I 
shouted, " have you seen baby ? " 

9. " No, I have n't ; I guess not. Why ? " 

10. I knew by the way Bell spoke that she was not 
half awake, but her coolness annoyed me. 

11. " You guess not! Well, she 's lost; I went to the 
lot after roasting-ears, and when — "A fretful exclamation 
from Bell interrupted me. 

12. " dear me ! Have you looked in the parlor ? I 've 
not a doubt but she 's there, poking over my photograph- 
album. Do look, please, sis." 

13. Terror overmastered my desire to fling back a snap- 
pish answer to this aggravating remark. Down stairs again, 
I threw open the parlor door, which, having been tightly 
closed, I had not before tried. All undisturbed and quiet.. 
How thankful I should have been just then to have found 
everything topsy-turvy, the phantom and grass bouquets 
in ruins, and Bell's album in the smutty fingers of the 
little culprit ! 

14. With a groan I shut the door, and commenced the 
search anew. I opened all the closets and presses that I 
had opened before, looked under the bureaus and sofas, 
and shook the ironing-basket. All in vain, vain ! No 
baby, — no Midget ! 

15. Then I ran out into the currant-bushes, where a few 
tempting red bunches were still hanging. Bell saw and 
hailed me from the chamber-window, — 

" Is n't that pestiferous infant found yet \ " 

16. I looked up to see the provoking girl sitting by the 
open blind, braiding her tangled hair, so leisurely! 



MY HUNT AFTER THE BABY. 77 

17. " You unfeeling creature ! " I cried ; " will you never 
have done your dreadful hair, and come and help me find 
this child ? " 

18. " Have you looked in the ash-hole, and the band- 
boxes, and the big churn?" answered this trying sister of 
mine ; but I saw her eyes opening very wide, and in two 
minutes more she was flouncing about the kitchen, with her 
unfastened braids hanging about her shoulders in a very 
original style. 

19. Her movements were peculiar and characteristic. 
She shook the door-mat, jerked the pump-handle, examined 
the bread-tray and the flour-barrel. Then her eyes fell 
upon the sink-drain. 

20. " She could n't have got in there, now, could she ? " 
questioned Bell, with terror in every feature. " The horrid 
sewer, you know ! " And she looked a whole volume of 
Victor Hugo at me in one. wretched instant. 

21. "Of course not ! through a four-inch spout ! and 
put the strainer in after her ! What a preposterous no- 
tion ! " And Bell does not know to this day that, not five 
minutes before she came down, I was working the broom- 
handle down that very spout with all my might and main. 

22. Out of doors we went, examined the clumps of elder, 
looked over the fence, up street, down street, and finally 
returned disconsolate to the kitchen. 

23. " Midget ! Midget ! you dear, precious little angel, 
where are you ? " moaned Bell, dropping upon the settee. I 
did not say, " Humph ! pestiferous little angel ! " for Bell's 
distress was too genuine to be mocked. 

24. So, as we sat with our arms around each other, cry- 
ing, we heard a very slight rattling in the direction of the 
cook-room of the kitchen, which contained no furniture 
except a stove and table. We had glanced around this 
room once or twice ; but as there seemed to be no hiding- 
places, the thought of searching it had never occurred to us. 

25. The stove was a large-sized Peerless, with an oven 
occupying the whole lower part. Well, to cut the story 



78 THE FIFTH READER. 

short, the baby was in the oven ! We knew it, Bell and I. 
as soon as the rattling was repeated, and we simultaneously 
rushed for the cook-room. 

26. There she sat, — the mischief, — bolt upright in the 
oven, with her head in the high part and her feet in the 
low, treating herself to the contents of a blackberiy-pie, 
vvhioh had been left in from the morning's baking. She 
had taken off the upper crust whole, spreading it on her 
bosom like a napkin, and was now employed in picking 
out the blackberries, and conveying them to her mouth one 
by one. She looked up at us, and such a face ! What 
with cunning, fright, and blackberry-juice, I have never 
seen such a face before or since. 

27. Bell caught her out, kissed her comparatively clean, 
scolding her all the time. Then she carried her to the sink, 
and pumped water upon her without the least fear of wash- 
ing her clown the spout. As soon as the little lady recov- 
ered her breath, she screamed furiously, and pointed to the 
oven with decided demonstrations of a plan to return to 
her repast. 

28. Bell begged the privilege of putting her back to 
finish the pie ; but I steadily set my face against such an 
indulgence, and, when she and Midget both insisted, set 
the matter at rest by kindling a huge fire in the stove, and 
making vigorous preparations for an early tea. 

Helen L. Bostwick. 



EXERCISE. 

1. The moment I stepped into the sitting-room I saw the baby was 

missing. 

2. She screeched like a hyena if any one approached to interfere 

with her operations. 
3 Her usual time to be crawling around was in the early 'part oj 
the day. 

4. She might generally be found sequestered in a corner. 

5. When she was hoaxing me she always winked desperately. 

6. I desired to fling back a snappish answer to this aggravating 

remark. 

7. I shut the door and commenced the search anew, 



THE FISHERMEN. 



79 




XIX. — THE FISHERMEN. 



HURRAH ! the seaward breezeb 
Sweep clown the bay amain ; 
Heave up, my lads, the anchor ! 

Run up the sail again ! 
Leave to the lubber landsmen 
The rail-car and the steed ; 
The stars of heaven shall guide us, 
The breath of heaven shall speed. 

ii. 
From the hill-top looks the steeple, 

And the lighthouse from the sand ; 
And the scattered pines are waving 

Their farewell from the land. 
One glance, my lads, behind us, 

For the homes we leave one sigh, 
Ere we take the change and chances 

Of the ocean and the sky. 



80 THE FIFTH READER. 

ill. 

Hurrah for the Red Island,* 

With the white cross on its crown I 
Hurrah for Mecatina,* 

And its mountains bare and brown ! 
There we '11 drop our lines, and gather 

Old Ocean's treasures in, 
Where'er the mottled mackerel 

Turns up a steel-dark fin. 

IV. 

Though the mist upon our jackets 

In the bitter air congeals, 
And our lines wind stiff and slowly 

From off the frozen reels ; 
Though the fog be dark around us. 

And the storm blow high and loud 
We will whistle down the wild wind, 

And laugh beneath the cloud. 

v. 

In the darkness as in daylight, 

On the water as on land, 
God's eye is looking on us, 

And beneath us is his hand ! 
Death will find us soon or later ; 

On the deck or in the cot ; 
And we cannot meet him better 

Than in working out our lot. 

VI. 

Hurrah! hurrah ! the west wind 

Comes freshening down the bay, 
The rising sails are filling, — 

Give way, my lads, give way ! 
Leave the coward landsman clinging 

To the dull earth like a weed, — 
The stars of heaven shall guide us, 

The breath of heaven shall speed. 

/. G. Whittle 

* Islands in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. 



THE KING AND THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 81 

XX. — THE KING AND THE MILLER OF 
MANSFIELD. 

KING (aside). No, no, this can be no public road, 
that 's certain ! I am lost, quite lost indeed. Of 
what advantage is it now to be a king ? Night shows 
me no respect. I cannot see better, nor walk so well as 
another man. What is a king ? Is he not wiser than 
another man ? Not without his councilors, I plainly find. 
Is he not more powerful ? I oft have been told so, indeed, 
but what now can my power command ? Is he not greater 
and more magnificent ? When seated on his throne, and 
surrounded with nobles and flatterers, perhaps he may 
think so ; but when lost in a wood, alas ! what is he but 
a common man ? His wisdom knows not which is north 
and which is south ; his power a beggar's dog would 
bark at ; and his greatness the beggar would not bow to. 
And yet how oft are we puffed up with these false attri- 
butes ! Well, in losing the monarch, I have found the man. 
(The report of a gun is heard.) Hark! some villain sure is 
near I What were it best to do ? Will my majesty pro- 
tect me ? No. Throw majesty aside then, and let man- 
hood do it. 

Miller (enters). I believe I hear the rogue. Who 's there ? 

King. No rogue, I assure you. 

Miller. Little better, friend, I believe. WTio fired that 
gun ? 

King. Not I, indeed. 

Miller. You lie,. I believe. 

King (aside). Lie ! lie ! How strange it seems to 
me to be talked to in this style ! — Upon my word I 
don't. 

Miller. Come, come, sir, confess ; you have shot one of 
the king's deer, have you not ? 

King. No, indeed ; I owe the king more respect. I 
heard a gun go off, indeed, and was afraid some robbers 
might be near. 



82 THE FIFTH READER. 

Miller. I 'm not bound to believe this, friend. Pray, 
who are you ? What 's your name ? 

King. Name ! 

Miller. Name ! yes, name ! Why, you have a name, 
have you not ? Where do you come from ? What is your 
business here ? 

King. These are questions I have not been used to, 
honest man. 

Miller. May be so, honest man ; but they are questions 
no honest man would be afraid to answer, I think : so, if 
you can give no better account of yourself, I shall make 
bold — to take you along with me, if you please. 

King. With you ! what authority have you to — 

Miller. The king's authority ; if I must give you an 
account, sir, I am John Cockle, the miller of Mansfield, one 
of his Majesty's keepers in this forest of Sherwood ; and I 
will let no suspected fellow pass this way that cannot give 
a better account of himself than you have done, I promise 
you. 

King {aside). I must submit to my own authority. — 
Very well, sir, I am glad to hear the king has so good an 
officer ; and since I find you have his authority, I will give 
you a better account of myself, if you will do me the favor 
to hear it. 

Miller. It 's more than you deserve, I believe; but let's 
hear what you can say for yourself. 

King. I have the honor to belong to the king as well 
as you, and, perhaps, should be as unwilling to see any 
wrong done him. I came down with him to hunt in this 
forest ; and, the chase leading us to-day a great way from 
home, I am benighted in this wood, and have lost my way. 

Miller. This does not sound well. If you have been a 
hunting, pray where is your horse ? 

King. I have tired my horse so much that he lay down 
under me, and I was obliged to leave him. 

Miller. If I thought I might believe this now — 

King. I am not used to lie, honest man. 



THE KING AND THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 83 

Miller. What ! do you live at court, and not lie ? 
That 's a likely story indeed ! 

King. Be that as it will, I speak truth now, I assure 
you. To convince you of it, — if you will attend me to 
Nottingham, if I am near it, or give me a night's lodging 
in your own house, here is something to pay you for your 
trouble (giving a purse). If that is not sufficient, I will 
satisfy you in the morning to your utmost desire. 

Miller. Ay, now I am convinced you are a courtier ; 
here is a little bribe for to-day, and a large promise for to- 
morrow, both in a breath ! Here, take it again, and take 
this along with it, — John Cockle is no courtier ; he can 
do what he ought — without a bribe. 

King. Thou art a very extraordinary man, I must own, 
and I should be glad, methinks, to be further acquainted 
with thee. 

Miller. Thee ! and thou ! prithee don't thee-and-thou 
me ; I believe I am as good a man as yourself, at least. 

King. Sir, I beg your pardon. 

Miller. Nay, I am not angry, friend : only I don't love 
to be too familiar with anybody before I know whether or 
not he deserves it. 

King. You are in the right. But what am I to do ? 

Miller. You may do what you please. You are twelve 
miles from Nottingham, and all the wav through a thick 
wood ; but if you are resolved upon going thither to-night, 
I will put you in the road, and direct you the best I can ; 
or, if you will accept of such poor entertainment as a 
miller can give, you will be welcome to stay all night, and 
in the morning I shall go with you myself. 

King. And cannot you go with me to-night ? 

Miller. I would not go with you to-night, if you were 
the king. 

King. Then I must go with you, I think. 

{Enter a courtier in haste.) 

Courtier. Ah ! is your Majesty safe ? We have hunted 
the forest over to find you. 



84 THE FIFTH READER. 

Miller. How! Are you the king? (Kneels,) Your 
Majesty will pardon the ill-usage you have received. (The 
King draws his sword.) His Majesty will not kill a servant 
for doing his duty too faithfully ! 

King. No, my good fellow. So far from having any- 
thing to pardon, I am much your debtor. I cannot think 
but so good and honest a man will make a worthy and 
honorable knight Bise, Sir John Cockle, and receive this 
sword as a badge of knighthood, and a pledge of my pro- 
tection; and to support your nobility, and in some measure 
requite you for the pleasure you have given us, a thousand 
crowns a year shall be your revenue ! Dodsley. 



^LUl. — SOME MURMUR WHEN THEIR SKY 
IS CLEAR. 



SOME murmur when their sky is clear, 
And wholly bright to view, 
If one small speck of dark appear 
In their great heaven of blue ; 
And some with thankful love are filled, 

If but one streak of light, 
One ray of God's good mercy, gild 
The darkness of their night. 



ii. 



In palaces are hearts that ask, 

In discontent and pride, 
Why life is such a weary task, 

And all good things denied ; 
And hearts in poorest huts admire 

How love has in their aid 
(Love, that not ever seems to tire) 

Such rich provision made. 



Bean Trench. 



THE SCOTCH WOMAN AND HER TWO SONS. 85 

XXII. — THE SCOTCH WOMAN AND HER 

TWO SONS. 

MANY years ago an old Scotch woman sat alone, 
spinning by the kitchen fire, in her little cottage. 
The room was adorned with the spoils of the chase, and 
many implements of war and hunting. There were spears, 
bows and arrows, swords, and shields ; and against the 
side of the room hung a pair of huge antlers, on which 
were suspended skins, plaids, bonnets, and one or two 
ponderous battle-axes. 

2. The table in the middle of the floor was spread foi 
supper, and some oatmeal cakes were baking before the 
fire. But the dame was not thinking of any of these 
things, nor of her two manly sons, who, in an adjoining 
room, were busily preparing for the next day's sport. 

3. She was thinking of the distracted state of her native 
land, and of the good king, Eobert Bruce, a fugitive in his 
own kingdom, beset on every hand by open enemies and 
secret traitors. " Alas ! " thought she, " to-night I dwell 
here in peace, while to-morrow may see me driven out 
into the heath ; and even our king is a wanderer, with 
no shelter for his weary limbs." 

4. A load knock at the door broke in upon her musings, 
She rose, trembling with fear, to unbar the entrance, and 
beheld a man closely muffled in a cloak. " My good 
woman," said he, " will you grant a poor traveler the 
shelter of your roof to-night ? " 

5. " Pdght willingly will I," said she ; " for the love of 
one for whose sake all travelers are welcome here." 

6. " For whose sake is it that you make all wanderers 
welcome ? " asked the stranger. 

7. " For the sake of our good king, Eobert Bruce, who, 
though he is now hunted like a wild beast, with horn 
and hound, I trust yet to see on the throne of Scotland." 

8. " Nay, then, my good woman," replied the man, " since 
you love him so well, know that you see him now. 7 
am Eobert Bruce." 



86 THE FIFTH READER. 

9. " You ? Are you our king ? " she inquired, sinking on 
her knees, and reverently kissing his hand. " Where, then, 
are your followers, and why are you thus alone ? " 

10. "I have no followers now," replied Bruce, " and am, 
therefore, compelled to travel alone." 

11. "Nay, my liege," exclaimed the loyal dame, "that 
you shall do no longer ; for here are my two sons, whom 
I give to you, and may they long live to serve and defend 
your Majesty !" 

12. The Scottish youths bent their knees, and took the 
oath of fealty; and then, sitting beside the fire, the king 
entered into conversation with his new retainers, while their 
mother was busied in preparing the evening meal. 

13. Suddenly they were startled by the tramp of horses' 
hoofs, and the voices of men. " 'T is the English ! " shouted 
the matron ; " fight to the last, my sons, and defend your 
king ! " But, at this moment, the king recognized the 
voices of Lord James, of Douglas, and of Edward Bruce, 
and bade them have no fear. 

14. Bruce was overjoyed at meeting with his brother 
and his faithful friend Douglas, who had with them a 
band of one hundred and fifty men. He bade farewell 
to the brave and loyal woman, and, taking with him her 
two sons, left the place. 

15. The two young Scots served Bruce well and faith- 
fully, and were high officers in his service, when at the head 
of a conquering army he drove the English invaders from 
the soil of Scotland, and rendered her again a free and 
independent kingdom. 



EXERCISE. 

1. The room was adorned with the spoils of the chase, and many 

implements of war and hunting. 

2. Against the sides cf the room hung a pair of hvfje antlers, and 

one or two ponderous battle-axes. 

3. The dame thought of her sons who were in an adjoining room. 

4. Our king is a wanderer, with no shelter for his weary limbs. 

5. A loud knock at the door broke in upon her musings. 



SHORT EXTRACTS IN VERSE, g? 

XXIII. — SHORT EXTRACTS IN VERSE. 



I. WISDOM S WAYS. 

F Wisdom's ways you 'd wisely seek, 
Five things observe with care ; 
Of whom you speak, to whom you speak, 
And hoiv, and ivhe?i, and where. 



I 



II. NEVER GIVE UP. 

Never give up ! for the wisest is boldest, 
Knowing that Providence mingles the cup ,• 

And of all maxims the best, as the oldest, 
Is the true watch w T ord of — Never give up \ 

III. THE BEST PRAYER. 

He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things both great and small ; 
For the dear God who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all. 

IV. SLANDER. 

Believe not each accusing tongue, 

As most weak people do ; 
But still believe that story wrong 

Which ought not to be true. 

v. don't worry. 

For every evil under the sun 
There 's a remedy, or there 's none ; 
If there is one, try and find it ; 
If there is n't, never mind it. 

vi. idle words. 

0, many a shaft at random sent 

Finds mark the archer little meant ! 

And many a word at random spoken 

May soothe or wound a heart that 's broken ' 



88 THE FIFTH READER. 

XXIV.— ONCE WELL DONE, TWICE DONE. 

" ~T~AMES," said my father, directly after breakfast, one 
fj morning, " I am going up to Squire Frame's after 
that pig, and I want you to make a pen for it. That shall 
be your job for the day ; but, mind, you 're not to have any 
help about it." 

2. u Yes, sir. What time will the pig be here ? " 

Fond visions of the salmon-trout in Schroon Lake began 
to dance before my mind ; for a pig-pen was only an hour's 
work, anyway. 

3. "I shall bring the pig about ten o'clock. We can 
put him into the bacon-house till you get the pen ready 
for him. You can finish it by three o'clock, I suppose? " 

4. " yes ; by noon," I responded, with that off-hand 
air of bravado peculiar to boys of fourteen. 

5. " But it 's no small job to build a pig-pen," my 
father insisted, with some emphasis; " pigs are not hogs, 
and I want that pen made well. When work 's w T ell done, 
it 's twice done." 

6. I had a strong constitutional tendency to two things, — 
shirking and fishing! As to the first, I w r as greatly assisted 
by three younger brothers, whom I could usually coax, 
threaten, hire, or wheedle into performing almost any task 
my father set me to do; while the latter pursuit I was 
always ready to follow unaided and alone. 

7. However, I set about the task with a sort of bold and 
lion-like energy, greatly enhanced by thoughts of salmon- 
trout. Posts were set, boards brought and nailed, a door 
hung with leather hinges, and an old trough set in place. 
Three boards, reaching from the top of the pen to the 
ground, with some clean straw, made a chamber in which 
the prince of pigs would have grunted with delight. The 
perfection of these arrangements was only equaled by the 
despatch with which they had been executed. 

8. I was proud of my skill, and was overhauling my 
fishing-tackle when piggy arrived. My father expressed a 



ONCE WELL DOXE, TWICE DONE. 89 

good deal of surprise at my expedition, and hoped the pen 
was strong enough to hold its tenant. 

9. This particular pig was one of the wickedest-looking 
I ever saw He did not squeal, as other pigs do ; but, as 
soon as he was admitted to the pen, sought the farthest 
corner, and looked at us with eyes full of sly malice and 
cunning. 

10. I forgot the salmon-trout until nearly dinner-time. 
I had almost finished my ham and eggs, when my youngest 
brother, Will, who had hurried out to get another look at 
the stranger, came running in with the direful tidings, — 
" Jim, Jim ! the pig 's out ! " 

11. I was rude enough to leave the table while my father 
was remarking something about " when work 's well done." 
1 did n't stop to catch the remainder of the sentence, but 
started after that pig. I may here state that I had the able 
assistance of my three brothers, gradually recruited by all 
the boys in the neighborhood. 

12. Piggy had a good start, and took to the woods. Talk 
of Dexter, Peg'asus, or seven-league boots, — that pig out- 
stripped the best of them ! I think there is a great differ- 
ence in pigs in regard to speed. At any rate, this individual 
pig gave us such a chase as I never heard of before or since, 
running into the deepest jungles, and when we thought he 
was surrounded, disappearing over a distant hill. 

13. Finally, after a great deal of maneuvering and skil- 
ful tactics, we brought him into a snare, where the high 
rocks on one side and the water on the other were too much 
for the poor pig. Pieces of twine were immediately pro- 
duced from the well-stocked pockets of his numerous cap- 
tors, and his legs secured so that it was quite impossible 
for him to use them, while the deafening din that rent the 
air proved well that piggy could squeal if he tried. 

14. I carried him home in my arms, and consigned him 
for the time to the bacon-house, while I repaired the mis- 
chief. He had rooted out under one corner of the pen and 
easily made his escape. 



90 THE FIFTH READEK. 

15. I brought more boards, dug a trench all round the 
outside, and made it quite impossible for my ingenious foe 
to root out again. 

The clock struck three ! 

16. Considerably depressed in mind and body, I shoul- 
dered my fishing-pole, and wearily started towards Schroon 
Like. There was still time to hook half a dozen trout. I 
had scarcely reached the summit of the hill, when the 
excited cry of Brother George struck a chill to the roots 
of my hair. 

" Jim, Jim ! the pig 's out ! " 

17. Despair settled over me. I turned homeward, and 
the first thing 1 did was to stow my fishing-tackle away in 
the barn chamber. 

18. For my own part, I was already fatigued with the 
day's sport ; but that pig seemed invigorated by it, and 
started in another direction. As T came in sight of him, 
a friendly neighbor was heading him off, and buoyant 
hope rose again in my breast. In vain ! Piggy ran be- 
tween his legs, and disappeared down the slope. It was 
two hours later when he was again secured. This time he 
had run up on the inclined plane of his chamber roof, and, 
jumping off, made his second escape. 

19. My state of mind can better be imagined than de- 
scribed ; and my father's silent and quizzical inspection of 
my work did not tend to soothe my wounded spirit. 

20. Talk of the mischievous genius of a boy ! It is 
nothing compared with the inventive talents of a pig. 

21. I cannot say, as story-books do, that from this time 
forth I was a reformed youth ; but I am very sure that the 
freaks of that pig made quite as salutary an impression 
upon my mind, and had as great an influence upon my 
future conduct, as my father's oft-repeated observation, — 
li When a thing 's well done, it 's twice done." 

L. A. B. Curtis. 



THE SWALLOW AND HER NEST. 9] 

XXV. — THE SWALLOW AND HER NEST, 

i. 

A SWALLOW in the spring 
Came to onr granary, and 'neath the eaves 
Essayed to make her nest, and there did bring 
Wet earth, and straw, and leaves. 

ii. 

Day after day she toiled 
With patient art ; but, ere her work was crowned, 
Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoiled, 

And dashed it to the ground. 

in. 

She found the ruin wrought ; 
Yet not cast down, forth from her place she flew, 
And with her mate fresh earth and grasses brought. 

And built her nest anew. 

IV. 

But scarcely had she placed 
The last soft feather on its ample floor, 
When wicked hands, or chance, again laid waste, 

And wrought the ruin o'er. 

v. 

But still her heart she kept, 
And toiled again ; and, last night hearing calls, 
I looked, and lo ! three little swallows slept 

Within the earth-made walls. 

VI. 

What trust is here, man ! 
Hath hope been smitten in its early dawn 'i 
Have clouds o'ercast thy purpose, trust, or plan ? 

Have faith, and struggle on ! 

R. S. S. Andros. 



92 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

XXVI. — ADVENTURE WITH A WHALE. 

AT daylight, as usual, our mast-head was manned , 
and at about seven o'clock we heard the cry, 
" There she blows ! " All on deck listened to hear the 
cry again, that they might feel an assurance of a sperm 
whale being in sight. 

2. In a few moments the well-known cry was repeated, 
and reiterated a number of times. The officer on deck 
inquired, K Where away ? " " Eight ahead, sir," was the 
reply. " How far off ? " "About three miles ; headed right 
athwart us : I can see his hump ; it is an old soldier, sir." 

3. Now a scene of bustle and confusion presents itself; 
some going aft, and others preparing the boats for the 
expected encounter. " There goes flukes," is heard from 
a dozen voices aloft ; which implies that the whale has 
sounded. 

4. A large whale remains under water from forty min- 
utes to an hour ; but when on the surface, and when not 
alarmed, spouts about -once in every thirty seconds, and 
remains above, going at the rate of four miles to the hour, 
for ten or twenty minutes. 

5. " There she blows ! " " Where, — where ? " asks the 
captain, in a hurried tone. " About two miles off oui lee 
beam, sir." " Haul up the mainsail ; lay the topsail to the 
mast ; down with your helm : let the ship come to the wind." 

6. The helm is instantly put to lee. The ship comes 
up, clashing the spray majestically from her bows, until 
checked by the action of the wind against her mainsail 
'• Is all ready for lowering ? " asks the captain. " Al] 
ready," is the reply. 

7. After descending to the deck, the captain points out 
to the officers the direction in which the whale is going, 
and gives such orders as the occasion requires. The boats 
are lowered ; the whale has sounded before the boats touch 
the water, and each one steers as judgment dictates in 
regard to the supposed course of the whale. 



ADVENTURE WITH A WHALE. 93 

8. To-day the captain's boat was within a short dis- 
tance, when the whale made its appearance ; and every 
nerve was strained to get alongside before it sounded 
" Pull, my good fellows ; pull away ! " was often repeated. 
"Lay back, every man ! A few more like this chap ahead, 
and we will bid adieu to the Pacific. Stretch hard, every 
one of you ; a few more strokes, and she is ours ; pull 
hard, I tell you." 

9. At this momentous time, every one feels the impor- 
tance of strict obedience. Some who have not been 
accustomed to the deadly battle with the monsters of the 
deep pull with heavy hearts, dreading the moment of 
attack ; while those who have been long in the business 
feel less dread; although a strange sensation creeps 
through every bosom, as the sea looks black with the bulk 
of an unwieldy monster, who goes down to the oozy ocean 
caves, then rises to the regions of day, and spouts out his 
pent breath towards heaven. A chill of dread comes over 
the hardiest bosom. 

10. But the boat goes fast. It is now alongside. The 
word from the captain to the boat-steerer is, u Stand up ! " 
which is done, his hands resting upon his harpoon. Xow 
he raises it, as if he would plunge it deep into the whale ; 
but a motion from the captain deters him. 

11. The whale lies spouting, with little motion. The 
boat's head is laid towards him; the word is given. Two 
harpoons are darted into the whale; he rears, plunges, and 
is lost to the sight, 

12. The other boats are seen coming to our relief; and 
the whale rises again in sight, "Haul line, — haul line; 
haul, I tell you : we will kill her before the other boats get 
up," says the captain. Every man hauled as if for his 
life ; the whale going through the water veiy rapidly. 

13. We had approached our object within a few feet, 
and the captain was in the attitude of darting his lance, 
when the whale made a sudden halt, which brought the 
boat in contact with his head. In an instant the jaw was 



94 THE FIFTH READER. 

elevated, and as quickly fell again, which stove the boat 
in pieces. 

14. While the other boats, which were at a distance, 
approached for our relief, we were some of us clinging to 
the shattered fragments of the boat, and some of us swim- 
ming in the water. We were rescued, and immediately 
carried to the ship. One of the crew, a young man from 
New Hampshire, had his leg broken in three places, and 
the flesh torn and mangled in a horrid manner. 

15. After our arrival at the ship, and our first care of 
the wounded man, whom we placed in as comfortable a 
situation as our circumstances would permit, we saw the 
waist-boat engaged in perilous conflict with the enemy 
who had wrecked us. After a bloody battle of two hours 
they succeeded in killing the " old soldier." 



XXVII. — NOTHING LOST. 

i. 
"XTOTHING is lost : the drop of dew 
1 >| That trembles on the leaf or flower 
Is but exhaled, to fall anew 
In summer's thunder-shower ; 
Perchance to shine within the bow 
That fronts the sun at fall of day, 
Perchance to sparkle in the flow 
Of fountains far away. 

ii. 
So with our deeds, — for good or ill 
They have their power, scarce understood ; 
Then let us use our better will 
To make them rife with good. 
Like circles on a lake they go, 
Ring beyond ring, and never stay. 
O that our deeds were fashioned so 
That they might bless alway ! 



MALIBRAN AND THE YOUNG MUSICIAN. 95 

XXVIII. — MALIBRAN AND THE YOUNG 
MUSICIAN. 

IN a humble room, in one of the poorer streets of Lon- 
don, little Pierre,, a fatherless French boy, sat humming 
1 »y the bedside of his sick mother. There was no bread in 
the closet ; and for the whole day he had not tasted food. 
Yet he sat humming, to keep up his spirits. Still, at times, 
he thought of his loneliness and hunger ; and he could 
scarcely keep the tears from his eyes ; for he knew noth- 
ing would be so grateful to his poor invalid mother as a 
good sweet orange ; and yet he had not a penny in the 
world. 

2. The little song he was singing was his own, — one he 
had composed with air and words ; for the child was a 
genius. 

3. He went to the window, and, looking out, saw a man 
putting up a great bill with yellow letters, announcing that 
Madame Malibran would sing that night in public. 

4. " 0, if I could only go ! " thought little Pierre ; and 
then, pausing a moment, he clasped his hands ; his eyes 
lighted with a new hope. Running to the little stand, he 
smoothed down his yellow curls, and, taking from a little 
box some old stained paper, gave one eager glance at his 
mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house. 



f 



5. " Who did you say is waiting for me ? " said the lady 
to her servant. " I am already worn out with company.'' 

G. " It is only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, 
who says if he can just see you, he is sure you will not 
be sorry, and he will not keep you a moment." 

7. "Oh! well, let him come," said the beautiful singer, 
with a smile; "I can never refuse children." 

8. Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm ; and in 
his hand a little roll of paper. With manliness unusual 
for a child, he walked straight to the lady, and, bowing, 
said, — "I came to see you, because my mother is very 



96 THE FIFTH READER. 

sick, and we are too poor to get food and medicine. I 
thought that, perhaps, if you would only sing my little 
song at some of your grand concerts, may be some pub- 
lisher would buy it, for a small sum ; and so I could get 
food and medicine for my mother." 

9. The beautiful woman rose from her seat ; very tall 
and stately she was ; — she took the little roll from his 
hand, and lightly hummed the air. 

10. " Did you compose it ? " she asked, — " you, a child ! 
And the words ? — Would you like to come to my con- 
cert ? " she asked, after a few moments of thought. 

11. " yes ! " and the boy's eyes grew bright with hap- 
piness, — " but I could n't leave my mother." 

12. "I will send somebody to take care of your mother, 
for the evening ; and here is a crown, with which you may 
go and get food and medicine. Here is also one of my 
tickets : come to-night ; that will admit you to a seat 
near me." 

13. Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some 
oranges, and many a little luxury besides, and carried them 
home to the poor invalid, telling her, not without tears, of 
his good fortune. 

* * * * * 

14. When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to 
the concert-hall, he felt that never in his life had he been 
in so grand a place. The music, the myriad lights, the 
beauty, the flashing of diamonds and rustling of silks, 
bewildered his eyes and brain. 

15. At last she came ; and the child sat with his glance 
riveted upon her glorious face. Could he believe that the 
grand lady, all blazing with jewels, and whom everybody 
seemed to Ayorship, would really sing his little song ? 

16. Breathless he waited, — the band, the whole band, 
fetruck up a little plaintive melody ; he knew it, and 
clapped his hands for joy. And oh ! how she sung it i 
It was so simple, so mournful, so soul-subduing; — many 
a bright eye dimmed with tears ; and naught could be 



MALIBRAN AND THE YOUNG MUSICIAN. 97 

heard but the touching words of that little song, — 0, 

so touching ! 

17. Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the 
air. What cared he for money now ? The greatest singer 
in all Europe had sung his little song, and thousands had 
wept at his grief. 

18. The next day he was frightened at a visit from 
Madame Malibran. She laid her hand on his yellow 
curls, and, turning to the sick woman, said, " Your little 
boy, madam, has brought you a fortune. I was offered, 
this morning, by the best publisher in London, three hun- 
dred pounds for his little song ; and after he has realized a 
certain amount from the sale, little Pierre, here, is to share 
the profits. Madam, thank God that your son has a gift 
from heaven." 

19. The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept 
together. As to Pierre, always mindful of Him who 
watches over the tried and tempted, he knelt clown by 
his mother's bedside, and uttered a simple but eloquent 
prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had 
deigned to notice their affliction. 

20. The memory of that prayer made the singer even 
more tender-hearted ; and she who was the idol of Eng- 
land's nobility went about doing good. And in her early, 
happy death, he who stood by her bed, and smoothed her 
pillow, and lightened her last moments by his undying 
affection, was the little Pierre of former days, — now rich, 
accomplished, and the most talented composer of the day. 

21. All honor to those great hearts who, from their high 
stations, send down bounty to the widow, and to the father- 
less child ! 

EXERCISE. 

1. Little Pierre had composed a song. 

2. He gave one eager glance at his mother, and ran speedily from 

the house. 

3. He was almost beside himself with joy. 

4. The music, the myriad lights, and the beauty bewildered him. 



98 



THE FIFTH READER. 




XXIX. — THE CHARCOAL-MAM. 



THOUGH rudely blows the wintry blast, 
And sifting snows fall white and fast, 
Mark Haley drives along the street. 
Perched high upon his wagon seat ; 
His somber faee the storm defies, 
And thus from morn till eve he cries, — 

" Charco' ! charco' ! " 
While echo faint and far replies, — 

" Hark, ! hark, ! " 
" Charco' ! " — " Hark, ! " — Such cheery sounds 
Attend him on his daily rounds. 



THE CHARCOAL-MAX. 99 

II. 
The dust begrimes his ancient hat ; 
His coat is darker far than that ; 
'T is odd to see his sooty form 
All speckled with the feathery storm ; 
Yet in his honest bosom lies 
Nor spot nor speck, — though still he cries, — 

" Charco' ! charco' ! " 
And many a roguish lad replies, — 

" Ark, ho ! ark, ho ! " 
'* Charco' ! " — " Ark, ho ! " — Such various sounds 
Announce Mark Haley's morning rounds. 

hi. 

Thus all the cold and wintry day 
He labors much for little pay ; 
Yet feels no less of happiness 
Than many a richer man, I guess, 
When through the shades of eve he spies 
The light of his own home, and cries, — 

" Charco' ! charco' ! " 
And Martha from the door replies, — 

" Mark, ho ! Mark, ho ! " 
" Charco' ! " — " Mark, ho ! " — Such joy abound? 
When he has closed his daily rounds. 

IV. 

The hearth is warm, the fire is bright ; 

And while his hand, washed clean and white, 

Holds Martha's tender hand once more, 

His glowing face bends fondly o'er 

The crib wherein his darling lies, 

And in a coaxing tone he cries, — 

" Charco' ! charco' ! " 
And baby with a laugh replies, — 

" Ah, go ! ah, go ! " 
" Charco' ! " — " Ah, go ! " — while at the sounds 
Che mother's heart with gladness bounds. 



100 THE FIFTH READER. 

v. 
Then honored be the charcoal-rnan ! 
Though dusky as an African, 
'T is not for you, that chance to be 
A little better clad than he, 
His honest manhood to despise, 
Although from morn till eve he cries, — 

" Charco' ! charco' ! " 
While mocking echo still replies, — 

" Hark, ! hark, ! " 

" Charco' ! " — " Hark, ! " — Long may the sounds 

Proclaim Mark Haley's daily rounds ! 

J. T. Trowbridge. 



XXX. — REHEARSING FOR CHRISTMAS. 

THE clock struck six ; and Beth, having swept up the 
hearth, put a pair of slippers clown to warm. Some- 
how the sight of the old shoes had a good effect upon the 
girls, for mother was coming home, and every one bright- 
ened to welcome her. Meg stopped lecturing, and lit the 
lamp. Amy got out of the easy-chair without being asked, 
and Jo forgot how tired she was, as she sat up to hold the 
slippers nearer the blaze. 

2. " They are quite worn out ; mother must have a new 
pair." 

" 1 thought I 'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth. 
" No, I shall ! " cried Amy. 

3. " I 'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a 
decided — 

" I 'm the man of the family now papa is away, and / 
shall provide the slippers, for he told me to take special 
care of mother while he was gone." 

4. " I Tl tell you what we '11 do," said Beth , " let 's each 
get her something for Christmas, and not get anything for 
ourselves." 



REHEARSING FOR CHRISTMAS. 101 

tf That 's like you, dear ! What will we get ? " ex- 
claimed Jo. 

5. Every one thought soberly for a minute ; then Meg 
announced, as if the idea was suggested by the sight of her 
own pretty hands, " I shall give her a nice pair of gloves." 

6. " Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo. 

" Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth. 

7. " I '11 get a little bottle of Cologne ; she likes it, and 
it won't cost much, so I '11 have some left to buy something 
for me," added Amy. 

8. " How will we give the things ? " asked Meg. 

" Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her 
open the bundles. Don't you remember how we used to 
do on our birthdays ? " answered Jo. 

9. " I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to 
sit in the big chair with a crown on, and see you all come 
marching round to give the presents, with a kiss. I liked 
the things and the kisses, but it was dreadful to have you 
sit looking at me while I opened the bundles," said Beth, 
who was toasting her face and the bread for tea, at the 
same time. 

10. "Let mother think we are getting things for our- 
selves, and then surprise her. We must go shopping to- 
morrow afternoon, Meg ; there is lots to do about the play 
for Christmas night," said Jo, marching up and down with 
her hands behind her back, and her nose in the air. 

11. "I don't mean to act any more after this time ; I 'm 
getting too old for such things," observed Meg, who was as 
much a child as ever about " dressing up " frolics. 

12. " You won't stop, I know, as long as you can trail 
round in a white gown with your hair down, and wear gold 
paper jewelry. You are the best actress we 've got, and 
there '11 be an end of everything if you quit the boards," 
said Jo. " We ought to rehearse to-night ; come here, 
Amy, and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a 
poker in that." 

13. "I cant help it; I never saw any one faint, and I 



1Q2 THE FIFTH READER. 

don't choose to make myself all black and blue, tumbling 
flat as you do. If I can go down easily, 1 11 drop ; if I 
can't, I shall fall into a chair and be graceful ; I don't care 
if Hugo does come at me with a pistol," returned Amy, 
who was not gifted with dramatic power, but was chosen 
because she was small enough to be borne out shrieking by 
the hero of the piece. 

14. " Do it this way ; clasp your hands so, and stagger 
across the room, crying frantically, ' Roderigo ! save me ! 
save me ! ' and away went Jo, with a melodramatic 
scream which was truly thrilling. 

15. Amy followed, but she poked her hands out stiffly 
before her, and jerked herself along as if she went by 
machinery ; and her " Ow ! " was more suggestive of pins 
being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave a 
despairing groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let 
her bread burn as she watched the fun with interest. 

16. " It 's no use ! do the best you can when the time 
comes, and if the audience shout, don't blame me. Come 
on, Meg." 

17. Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied 
the world in a speech of two pages without a single break ; 
Hagar, the witch, chanted an awful incantation over her 
kettleful of simmering toads, with weird effect ; lloderioo 
rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in agonies 
of remorse and arsenic, with a wild " Ha ! ha ! " 

18. " It 's the best we 've had yet," said Meg, as the 
dead villain sat up and rubbed his elbows. 

19. " I don't see how you can write and act such splen- 
did things, Jo. You 're a regular Shakespeare ! " exclaimed 
Beth, who firmly believed that her sisters were gifted with 
wonderful genius in all things. 

20. " Not quite," replied Jo, modestly. " I do think 
' The Witch's Curse, an Operatic Tragedy,' is rather a nice 
thing ; but I 'd like to try Macbeth, if we only had a trap 
door for Banquo. I always wanted to do the killing part. 
1 Is that a dagger that I see before me ? ' " muttered Jo, 



THE GIANT. 103 

rolling her eyes and clutching at the air, as she had seen a 
famous tragedian do. 

21. " No, it 's the toasting-fork, with ma's shoe on it in- 
stead of bread. Beth \s stage-struck," cried Meg, and the 
rehearsal ended in a general burst of laughter. 

L. M. Alcott. 



XXXL-ffi.B GIANT. 

i. 

THERE came a Giant to my door, 
A Giant fierce and strong ; 
His step was heavy on the floor, 
His arms were ten yards long. 
He scowled and frowned ; he shook the ground : 

I trembled through and through ; — 
At length I looked him in the face 
And cried, " Who cares for you ] " 

11. 
The mighty Giant, as I spoke, 

Grew pale and thin and small, 
And through his body, as 't were smoke, 

I saw the sunshine fall. 
His blood-red eyes turned blue as skies. 

He whispered soft and low. 
" Is this," I cried, with growing pride, — 

" Is this the mighty foe % " 

in. 
He sank before my earnest face, 

He vanished quite away, 
And left no shadow on his place 

Between me and the day. 
Such Giants come to strike us dumb — 

But, weak in every part, 

They melt before the strong man's eyes, 

And fly the true of heart. 

Charles Mackay. 



104 THE FIFTH READEK. 

XXXII. — THE FARMER AMD THE FOX. 

A FARMER, whose poultry -yard had suffered severely 
from the foxes, succeeded at last in catching one in 
a trap. 

" Ah, you rascal ! " said he, as he saw him struggling, 
" 1 11 teach you to steal my fat geese ! — you shall hang on 
the tree yonder, and your brothers shall see what comes of 
thieving ! " 

2. The Farmer was twisting a halter to do what he 
threatened, when the Fox, whose tongue had helped him 
in hard pinches before, thought there could be no harm in 
trying whether it might not do him one more good turn. 

3. " You will hang me," he said, " to frighten my brother 
foxes. On the word of a fox they won't care a rabbit-skin 
for it ; they 11 come and look at me ; but you may depend 
upon it, they will dine at your expense before they go 
home again ! " 

4. " Then I shall hang you for yourself, as a rogue and a 
rascal," said the Farmer. 

5. " I am only what Nature, or whatever you call the 
thing, chose to make me," the Fox answered. " I did n't 
make myself." 

6. " You stole my geese," said the man. 

7. " Why did Nature make me like geese, then ? " said 
the Fox. " Live and let live ; give me my share, and I won't 
touch yours : but you keep them all to yourself." 

8. "I don't understand your fine talk," answered the 
Farmer ; " but I know that you are a thief, and that you 
deserve to be hanged." 

9. His head is too thick to let me catch him so, thought 
the Fox ; I wonder if his heart is any softer ! " You are 
taking away the life of a fellow-creature," he said ; " that 's 
a responsibility, — it is a curious tiling, that life, and who 
knows what comes after it ? You say I am a rogue. I 
say I am not ; but at any rate I ought not to be hanged, 
— for if I am not, I don't deserve it ; and if I am, you 



THE FARMER AND THE FOX. 105 

should give me time to repent ! " I have him now, thought 
the Fox ; let him get out if he can. 

10. " Why, what would you have me do with you ? " 
said the man. 

11. " My notion is that you should let me go, and give 
me a lamb, or goose or two, every month, and then I could 
live without stealing ; but perhaps you know better than 
I, and I am a rogue ; my education may have been neg- 
lected ; you should shut me up, and take care of me, and 
teach me. Who knows but in the end I may turn into a 
dog? 55 

12. " Very pretty," said the Farmer; "we have dogs 
enough, and more, too, than we can take care of, without 
you. No, no, Master Fox, I have caught you, and you 
shall swing, whatever is the logic of it. There will be one 
rogue less in the world, anyhow." 

13. " It is mere hate and unchristian vengeance," said 
the Fox. 

14. " No, friend," the Farmer answered ; " I don't hate 
you, and I don't want to revenge myself on you ; but you 
and I can't get on together, and I think I am of more 
importance than you. If nettles and thistles grow in my 
cabbage-garden, I don't try to persuade them to grow into 
cabbages. I just dig them up. I don't hate them ; but I 
feel somehow that they must n't hinder me with my cab- 
bages, and that I must put them away ; and so, my poor 
friend, I am sorry for you, but I am afraid you must 

Swin §- J. A. FroucU. 



EXERCISE. 

1. You will hang me to frighten my brother foxes. 

2. They will dine at your expense before they go home. 

3. Give me my share, and I won't touch yours. 

4. I don't understand your fine talk. 

5. That is a responsibility. [Something to be accounted or an- 
swered for.] 

6. My notion is that you should let me go. 

7. Then I could live without stealing. 



J 06 THE FIFTH KEADER. 

XXXIII. — THE VOICE AND PEN 

i. 

OTHE orator's Voice is a mighty power, 
As it echoes from shore to shore ; 
And the fearless Pen has more sway o'er men 

Than the murderous cannon's roar. 
What bursts the chain far o'er the main, 

And brightens the captive's den ? 
'T is the fearless Voice and the Pen of power : 
Hurrah for the Voice and Pen ! 

Hurrah ! 
Hurrah for the Voice and Pen ! 

ii. 
The tyrant knaves who deny our rights, 

And the cowards who blanch with fear, 
Exclaim with glee, " No arms have ye, — 

Nor cannon, nor sword, nor spear ! 
Your hills are ours ; with our forts and towers 

We are masters of mount and glen." 
Tyrants, beware ! for the arms we bear 

Are the fearless Voice and Pen ! 

in. 
Though your horsemen stand with bridle in hand. 

And your sentinels walk around ; 
Though your matches flare in the midnight air, 

And yo % ur brazen trumpets sound ; 
0, the orator's tongue shall be heard among 

These listening warrior-men, 
And they '11 quickly say, " Why should we slay 

Our friends of the Voice and Pen i " 

IV. 

When the Lord created the earth and sea, 

The stars and the glorious sun, 
The Godhead spoke, and the universe woke, 

And the mighty work was done ! 



ELOQUENCE OF TATRICK HENRY. 107 

Let a word be flung from the orator's tongue, 

Or a drop from the fearless Pen, 
And the chains accursed asunder burst 

That fettered the minds of men ! 

v. 
0, these are the swords with which we fight, 

The arms in which we trust ; 
Which no tyrant hand will dare to brand, 

Which time cannot dim or rust ! 
When these we bore we triumphed before, 

With these w T e '11 triumph again ; 
And the world will say, " No power can stay 
The Voice and the fearless Pen ! " 

Hurrah ! 
Hurrah for the Voice and Pen ! 

D. F. McCarthy. 



XXXIV. — ELOQUENCE OF PATRICK HENRY. 

DUEING- the distress of the American army, caused 
by the invasion of Cornwallis and Phillips in 1781, 
Mr. Venable, an army commissioner, took two steers for 
the use of the troops from Mr. Hook, a Scotchman, and 
a man of wealth, who was suspected of being unfriendly 
to the American cause. 

2. The act was not strictly legal ; and after the war had 
closed, Hook, by the advice of one Mr. Cowan, a lawyer 
of some distinction, thought proper to bring an action for 
trespass against Mr. Venable. 

3. Mr. Henry appeared for the defendant ; and he is 
said to have contributed much to the enjoyment of his 
hearers. At one time he excited their indignation against 
Hook, and vengeance was visible in every countenance ; 
again, when he chose to ridicule him, the whole audience 
was in a roar of laughter. He painted the distress of the 
American army, exposed almost naked to the cold of a 



108 THE FIFTH READER. 

winter's sky, and marking the frozen ground over which 
they marched with the blood of their unshod feet. 

4. "Where was the man/ 1 said he," who had an Amer- 
ican bosom, who would not have thrown open his fields, 
his barns, his cellars, the doors of his house, the portals 
of his breast, to receive with outspread arms the meanest 
soldier in that little band of starving patriots ? Where 
is the man ? There he stands ; but whether the heart 
of an American beats in his bosom, you, gentlemen, are to 
judge." 

5. He then carried the jury by the power of his imagi- 
nation to the plains of Yorktown ; the surrender of which 
had followed shortly after the act complained of. He 
painted the surrender in the most glowing and noble 
colors of his eloquence : the audience saw before their 
eyes the humbled and dejected British as they marched 
out of their trenches ; they saw the triumph which lighted 
up every patriotic face ; they heard the shout of " Vic- 
tory ! " the cry of " Washington and liberty ! " as it rung 
and echoed through the American ranks, and was re- 
echoed from the hills, and from the shores of the neigh- 
boring river. 

6. " But hark ! " continued Henry, " what notes of dis- 
cord are these which disturb the general joy, and silence 
the acclamations of victory ? They are the notes of John 
Hook, hoarsely bawling through the American camp, 
Beef ! beef ! beef ! " 

7. The court was convulsed with laughter ; the jury 
retired, and, we regret to say, John Hook lost his cause. 

Wirt. 



EXERCISE. 

1. Mr. Yenable took two steers for the use of the troops. 

2. The act was not strictly legal. 

3. Vengeance was visible in every countenance. 

4. The surrender of Yorktown followed shortly after this act. 

5. They saw the triumph which lighted up every patriotic face. 
G What notes of discord silence the acclamations of victory ? 



THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 109 

XXXV. — THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA 

i. 

COLUMBUS on the lonesome deck 
Keeps watch at dead of night, 
Searching with anxious eyes the dark , 
What sees he far away 1 A spark, 
A little glimmering light. 

ii. 
Then boomed the Pinta's signal gun ! 

The first that ever broke 
The silence of a world. That sound, 
Echoing to savage depths profound, 

A continent awoke . 

in. 
Wild joy possessed each mariner's breast, 

When day revealed a rich 
And fruitful island, fair and green, 
Where naked savages were seen 

Running along the beach. 

IV. 

The Saint Maria moves proudly up, 

And drops her anchor nighest; 
And " Glory to God ! " the sailors sing ; 
With " Glory to God ! " the wild winds ring, — 

" Glory to God in the highest ! " 

v. 

The boat is manned, and towards the land 

Swift fly the flashing oars. 
High at the prow the admiral, 
In princely garb, superb and tall, 

Surveys the savage shores. 

VI. 

They touch the strand, he stepped to land, 

And knelt and kissed the sod, 
With all his followers. Amazed, 
Far off the painted red men gazed, 

Believing him a god. 



110 THE FIFTH KEADER. 

VII. 

Then up rose he, and solemnly, 

With bright sword drawn, advanced 
The standard of the King and Queen ; — • 
On its rich sheen of gold and green. 
The sunrise glory glanced. 

VIII. 

With wondering awe, the red men saw 

The silken cross unfurled. 
His task was done ; for good or ill, 
The fatal banners of Castile 

Waved o'er the Western World. 

J. T. Trowbridge. 



XXXVI. —ART AND ARTISTS. 

ri ^HERE was once a boy who fancied he should like to 
-L do as Eobinson Crusoe did. He got some pieces of 
wood together, with a chopper, a hammer, and some nails, 
and built himself a hut in the garden. Into this hut he 
used to go, and pretend to himself that he was shipwrecked 
on a desolate island. 

2. This boy had a sister, who after looking into her 
father's books one day, came to him and said, " Papa, what 
is art ? " 

Papa made answer, " Art, dear, is make-believe." 

3. " Then, papa, I suppose Tom was an artist, when he 
made believe he was Ptobinson Crusoe in the garden," said 
the little girl. 

4. Let us look at this subject a little, and we shall find 
it not so hard as it appears. 

5. Tf an artist is a man who makes believe, and if that 
little boy was making believe when Ire pretended to him- 
self that he was Robinson Crusoe in the garden, why was 
not that art, and why was he not an artist ? 



ART AND ARTJSTS. HI 

6. There are several reasons ; but I am going to speak 
of just two. The first is this, that the boy was only imi- 
tating. 

7. There was once a sailor, in a ship on the coast of 
China, wiio wanted a. new pair of trousers made. Now the 
Chinese can imitate anything very cleverly. So the sailor 
sent his own patched trousers to a Chinaman along with 
some cloth, and said, " Make me a pair of trousers like this 
pattern." 

8. I am sure you can guess w T hat the Chinaman did, — 
he made an exact copy of the trousers, with all the patches. 

9. Now art is make-believe, which shows us things made 
after the patterns there are in the world ; but it is not 
copying, like that of the Chinese tailor. This tailor copied 
the patch and sent the job home, thinking that trousers 
were intended to be patched. 

10. An artist may make a picture, or a statue, or a tale, 
or a poem, in which he puts a broken-hearted woman or a 
wicked man, but he must not do this as if he thought 
women were intended to be broken-hearted, or men to be 
wicked ; because, if he did, his work would turn out ugly, 
and nothing can be a work of art that is not beautiful. 

11. The second reason is this, that the Eobinson 
Crusoe boy was only making believe to himself for his own 
pleasure. 

12. But the man who is really an artist does not, in 
making what we call works of art, seek his own pleasure. 
His work is often painful to him, and yet he goes on with 
it and his one wish is to make it perfect. 

13. He could not tell you why he was fonder of perfect 
make-believe than of anything else ; but the one thing 
above all that makes a man an artist is that he loves his 
make-believe for its own sake, — not for pleasure or profit, 
but for itself. 

14. You will not, all of you, understand this without 
turning it over in your own minds a good deal ; but if you 
notice other boys and girls, even when they are very young, 



112 THE FIFTH READER. 

you will observe in them a great difference in their way 
of doing whatever work they have to do. 

15. The kind of work which we call art consists in 
picking different things out and copying them, or making 
us feel about them in such a way that we shall call the 
make-believe beautiful. 

16. Some men and women are skilful in picking out and 
putting different sounds together into melodies and har- 
monies ; and these we call musicians. Some are skilful 
in putting words together in time or rhyme, or both, in such 
ways that they make us see or feel over again something 
that affects us ; and these, you know, are poets. 

17. Others are very skilful in picking out and mixing 
in a beautiful make-believe certain kinds of shapes or 
colors ; and these are painters or sculptors. 

18. Then suppose you think of a sad or a joyful story, 
— the painter could paint part of it ; the sculptor could 
carve part of it in stone ; the musician could make music 
about it which you would at once know was either sad or 
joyful; the poet might make beautiful verses about it; and 
the story-teller might put it into prose in such a way that 
all the world who read it would be affected by it. 

19. If you were to read in a book that " Art speaks a 
universal language," you would not understand it at all, 
but you will understand a little if I put it in this way. 
There may be a story which will make us laugh or make 
us cry, or both, if we know certain things about the people 
in it, but it will not make all persons laugh or cry if they 
do not know what we know. Yet a man who is skilful 
in the make-believe that we call Art will be able to tell 
that story in such a way that hundreds of thousands of 
people shall laugh and cry at it, though they have none 
of our knowledge. 

20. And so it happens that men who were poets, 
painters, musicians, sculptors, and story-tellers have made 
for us beautiful poems and stories, beautiful statues, beauti- 
ful pictures, and beautiful pieces of music ; and though this 



WAR-SONG. 113 

is all make-believe, it not only does us good by giving us 
very great pleasure, but it teaches us things about the 
world and each other that we never knew before. 

21. That is because, as I have said, it is not mere copy- 
ing, like that of the Chinese tailor, or just an image like 
one in a looking-glass ; for the artist has put the different 
parts of his work together as we never saw them before, and 
so we have fresh thoughts and feelings about them, as if 
another world had been made for us out of the very world 
we know so well. 



XXXVII. — WAR-SONG. 

i. 

FREEDOM calls you ! Quick ! be ready, - 
Rouse ye in the name of God ! 
Onward, onward ! strong and steady, — 
Dash to earth the oppressor's rod. 
Freedom calls, ye brave, ye brave ! 
Rise, and spurn the name of slave. 

IT. 

Grasp the sword ! — its edge is keen ; 
Seize the gun ! — its ball is true : 
Sweep your land from tyrant clean, — 
Haste, and scour it through and through ! 

Onward, onward ! Freedom cries ; 

Rush to arms, — the tyrant flies. 

in. 
Freedom calls you ! Quick ! be ready, — 
Think of what your sires have been. 
Onward, onward ! strong and steady, — 
Drive the tyrant to his den ! 

On ! and let the watchwords be, 
Country, home, and liberty ! 

James G. Percival. 



114 THE FIFTH KEADER. 

XXXVIII. — THE PRACTICAL JOKER. 

THE dinner was dispatched, and by seven o'clock my 
new friend and myself were left to commence our 
voyage up the river. His spirits appeared even higher 
than they had been before ; and his witty sallies and reck- 
less impudence kept me in a constant shiver of delight and 
apprehension. 

2. His first victim was a very respectable, round-bodied 
gentleman, who was sitting squeezed into the stern-sheets 
of a skiff, floating most agreeably to himself down the 
stream, the gentle southwest breeze giving the sail of his 
boat a shape very similar to that of his equally well-filled 
white-dimity waistcoat. 

3. " Hollo ! " cried my friend Daly ; " I say, you sir, 
what are you doing in that boat ? " 

The plump gentleman maintained a dignified silence. 

4. " I say, you sir," continued the undaunted joker, 
" what are you doing there ? You have no business in 
that boat, and you know it ! " 

A slight yaw of the skiff' into the wind's eye was the 
only proof of the stout navigator's agitation. 

5. Still Daly w T as inexorable, and he again called to the 
unhappy mariner to get out of the boat. " I tell you, my 
fat friend," cried he, "you have no business in that boat \ n 

6. Flesh and blood could not endure this reiterated 
declaration The ire of the cockney was roused " No 
business in this boat, sir !" 'cried he ; " what d' ye mean ? ,: 

7. " I mean what I say," said Daly ; " you have no busi- 
ness in it, and I '11 prove it," 

8. " I think, sir, you will prove no such thing," said the 
navigator, whose progress through the water was none of 
the quickest; " perhaps you don't know, sir, that this is 
my own pleasure-boat ? r 

9. u That's it," said Daly; " now you have it, — no man 
can have any business in a pleasure-ho&t. Good-day, sir. 

That's all" Theodore Hook. — Adapted. 



GEORGE NIDIVER. 1J5 

XXXIX. — GEORGE NIDIVER. 

i. 

MEN have done brave deeds, 
And bards have sung them well : 
I of good George Nidiver 
Now the tale will tell. 
In Californian mountains 
A hunter bold was he : 
Keen his eye and sure his aim 
As any you should see. 

ii. 
A little Indian boy 

Followed him everywhere, 
Eager to share the hunter's joy, 

The hunter's meal to share. 
And when the bird or deer * 

Fell by the hunter's skill, 
The boy was always near 

To help with right good-will. 

in. 
One day as through the cleft 

Between two mountains steep, 
Shut in both right and left, 

Their questing way they keep, 
They see two grizzly bears 

With hunger fierce and fell 
Rush at them unawares, 

Right down the narrow dell. 

IV 

The boy turned round with screams. 

And ran with terror wild ; 
One of the pair of savage beasts 

Pursued the shrieking child. 
The hunter raised his gun, — 

He knew one charge was all, — 
And through the boy ? s pursuing foe 

He sent his only ball. 



116 THE FIFTH HEADER 

v. 

The other on George Nidiver 

Came on with dreadful pace : 
The hunter stood unarmed, 

And met him face to face. 
I say unarmed he stood. 

Against those frightful paws 
The rifle-butt or club of wood 

Could stand no more than straws. 

VI. 

George Nidiver stood still 

And looked him in the face ; 
The wild beast stopped amazed, 

Then came with slackening pace. 
Still firm the hunter stood, 

Although his heart beat high ; 
Again the creature stopped, 

And gazed with wondering eye. 

VII. 

The hunter met his gaze, 

Nor yet an inch gave way ; 
The bear turned slowly round, 

And slowly moved away. 
What thoughts were in his mind 

It would be hard to spell; 
What thoughts were in George Nidiver 

I rather guess than tell. 
But sure that rifle's aim, 

Swift choice of generous part, 
Showed in its passing gleam 

The depths of a brave heart. 

"Society and Solitude." 

EXERCISE. 

1. They keep their questing way between two steep mountains. 
[Searching.] 

2. Two grizzly bears rush at them unawares. 

3. They were fierce and fell. [Bloodthirsty.] 

4. One of the savage beasts pursued the shrieking child. 



LADD AND HIS NEIGHBOR. 117 



XL. — LADD AND HIS NEIGHBOR. 



I HAD," sa: 
fine field o 



said William Ladd, the apostle of peace, "a 
of grain, growing upon an out-farm, at some 
distance from the homestead. Whenever I rode by I saw 
my neighbor Pulcifer's sheep in the lot, destroying my hopes 
of a harvest. These sheep were of the gaunt, long-legged 
kind, active as spaniels; they would spring over the highest 
fence, and no partition- wall could keep them out. 

2. " I complained to neighbor Pulcifer about them, sent 
him frequent messages, but all without avail. Perhaps they 
would be kept out for a day or two ; but the legs of his 
sheep were long, and my grain more tempting than the 
adjoining pasture. I rode by again, — the sheep were still 
there. I became angry, and told my men to set the dogs 
on them; and, if that would not do, I would pay them if 
they would shoot the sheep. 

3. " I rode away much agitated ; for I was not so much 
of a peace man then as I am now, and I felt literally full 
of fight. All at once a light flashed in upon me. I asked 
myself, 'Would it not be well for you to try in your own 
conduct the peace principle you are teaching to others?' 
I thought it all over, and settled in my mind as to the 
best course to be pursued. The next day I rode over to see 
neighbor Pulcifer. I found him chopping w r ood at his door. 

4. "'Good morning, neighbor!' No answer. 'Good 
morning ! ' I repeated. He gave a kind of grunt, without 
looking up. 'I came,' continued I, 'to see about the sheep.' 
At this he threw down his ax and exclaimed, in an angry 
manner, ' Now are n't you a pretty neighbor, to tell your 
men to kill my sheep! I heard of it; a rich man, like you, 
to shoot a poor man's sheep ! ' 

5. '"I was wrong, neighbor,' said I ; ' but it won't do to 
let your sheep eat up all that grain ; so I came over to say 
that I w r ould take your sheep to my homestead pasture, and 
put them in with mine ; and in the fall you shall take them 
back, and if any one is missing, you may take your pick 
out of my whole flock.' 



118 THE ±1ETH DEADER. 

6. "Pulcifer looked confounded; lie did not kaow how 
to take me. At last he stammered out : ' Now, Squire, are 
you in earnest?' ' Certainly I am/ I answered; ' it is better 
for me to feed your sheep in my pasture on grass than to feed 
them here on grain; and I see the fence can't keep them out.' 

7. " After a moment's silence, ' The sheep sha' n't trouble 
you any more,' exclaimed Pulcifer. ' I will fetter them all. 
But I '11 let you know that when men talk of shooting, I 
can shoot too ; and when they are kind and neighborly, I 
can be kind too.' 

8. " The sheep never again trespassed on my lot. And, 
my friends," he would continue, addressing the audience, 
" remember that when you talk of injuring your neighbors, 
they will talk of injuring you. When nations threaten to 
fight, other nations will be ready too. Love will beget love ; 
a wish to be at peace will keep you in peace. You can 
overcome evil with good. There is no other way." 



XLI. — THJE BURIAL OF MOSES. 

i. 

BY Nebo's lonely mountain, 
On this side Jordan's wave, 
In a vale in the land of Moab, 

There lies a lonely grave ; 
And no man dug that sepulcher, 

And no man saw it e'er, 
For the angels of God upturned the sod, 
And laid the dead man there. 

ii. 
That was the grandest funeral 

That ever passed on earth ; 
But no man heard the trampling, 

Or saw the train go forth. 
Noiselessly as the daylight 

Comes when the night is done, 
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek 

Grows into the tjreat sun. — 



L'HE 13U1UAL OF MOSES. 119 

ill. 
Noiselessly as the Spring-time 

Her crown of verdure weaves, 
And all the trees on all the hills 

Open their thousand leaves ; 
So without sound of music, 

Or voice of them that wept, 
Silently down from the mountain's crowm 

The great procession sw T ept. 

IV. 

Perchance the bald old eagle 

On gray Bethpeors height 
Out of his rocky eyry 

Looked on the wondrous sight ; 
Perchance the lion stalking 

Still shuns that hallowed spot ; 
For beast and bird have seen and heard 

That which man knoweth not. 

v. 

And had he not high honor, 

The hillside for his pall, 
To lie in state while angels wait, 

With stars for tapers tall, 
And the dark rock-pines like tossing plumes 

Over his bier to wave, 
And God's own hand, in that lonely land, 

To lay him in the grave % 

VI. 

O lonely tomb in Moab's land ! 

dark Bethpeors hill ! 
Speak to these curious hearts of ours 

And teach them to be still ; 
God hath his mysteries of grace, 

Things w T hich we cannot tell ; 
He hides them deep, like the secret sleep 

Of him he loved so well. 

C. F. Alexander. — Abridged. 



120 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

XLII. — GdPTUJRH OF TICONDEROGA. 

THE men were now drawn up in three ranks, and as 
the first beams of morning broke upon the mountain 
peaks Allen addressed them : " Friends and fellow-sol- 
diers, — We must this morning quit our pretensions to valor, 
or possess ourselves of this fortress ; and inasmuch as it is 
a desperate attempt, I do not urge it on, contrary to will. 
You that will undertake voluntarily, poise your firelock." 

2. At the word every firelock was poised. " Face to the 
right," cried Allen ; and placing himself at the head of the 
center file, Arnold keeping emulously at his side, he 
marched to the gate. It was shut, but the wicket was 
open. The sentry snapped a fusee at him. The Ameri- 
cans rushed into the fort, darted upon the guards, and 
raising the Indian war-whoop, such as had not been heard 
there since the days of Montcalm, formed on the parade in 
hollow square, to face each of the barracks. 

3. One of the sentries, after wounding an officer, and 
being slightly wounded himself, cried out for quarter, and 
showed the way to the apartment of the commanding offi- 
cer. " Come forth instantly, or I will sacrifice the whole 
garrison," cried Ethan Allen, as he reached the door. At 
this, Delaplace, the commander, came out undressed, with 
some of his garments in his hand. 

4. " Deliver me the fort instantly," said Allen. " By 
what authority ? " asked Delaplace. " In the name of the 
great Jehovah, and the Continental Congress ! " answered 
Allen. Delaplace began to speak again, but was peremp- 
torily interrupted, and at sight of Allen's drawn sword 
near his head he gave up the garrison, ordering his men to 
be paraded without arms. 

5. Thus was Ticonderoga taken in the gray of the morn- 
ing of the 10th of May, 1775. What cost the British 
nation eight millions sterling, a succession of campaigns 
and many lives, was won in ten minutes by a few undisci- 
plined men, without the loss of life or limb. 

Bancroft. 



A BIRD'S-NEST. 



121 




XL III. — A BIRD'S NEST. 



OVER my shaded doorway 
Two little brown-winged birds 
Have chosen to fashion their dwelling, 

And utter their loving words ; 
All day they are going and coming 

On errands frequent and fleet, 
And warbling over and over, 

" Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet ! " 

IT. 

Their necks are changeful and shining, 

Their eyes are like living gems ; 
And all day long they are busy 

Gathering straws and stems, 
Lint and feathers and grasses, 

And half forgetting to eat, 
Yet never failing to warble, 

" Sweetest, sweet, sweet, sweet ! " 



122 THE FIFTH READER. 

in. 
I scatter crumbs on the doorstep, 

And fling them some flossy threads ; 
They fearlessly gather my bounty, 

And turn up their graceful heads. 
And chatter and dance and flutter, 

And scrape with their tiny feet, 
Telling me over and over, 

" Sweetest, sweet, sweet, sweet ! ' 

IV. 

What if the sky is clouded ? 

What if the rain comes down ? 
They are all dressed to meet it, 

In water-proof suits of browm. 
They never mope nor languish 

Nor murmur at storm or heat, 
But say, whatever the weather, 

"Sweetest, sweet, sweet, sweet!'' 

v. 
Alw T ays merry and busy, 

Dear little brown-winged birds ' 
Teach me the happy magic 

Hidden in those soft words, 
Which always, in shine or shadow, 

So lovingly you repeat, 
Over and over and over, 

" Sweetest, sweet, sweet, sweet ! " 

Florence Percy 



EXERCISE. 

1. Two little birds have chosen to fashion their dwelling, 

2. All day long they are busy, yet never failing to warble. 

3. I scatter crumbs on the doorstep, and fling them threads. 

4. What if the sky is clouded? What if the rain comes down \ 

5. They are all dressed to meet it, in water-proof suits. 

6. They never mope nor languish nor murmur. 



THE RETURN OF COLUMBUS. 123 

XLlV.-r.fftf RETURN OF COLUMBUS. 

DON GOMEZ AND HIS SECRETARY. 

DON GOMEZ. What ! What is this you tell me ? 
Columbus returned ? A new world discovered ? Im- 
possible ! 

Secretary. It is even so, sir. A courier arrived at the 
palace but an hour since with the intelligence. Columbus 
was driven by stress of weather to anchor in the Tagus. 
All Portugal is in a ferment of enthusiasm, and all Spain 
will be equally excited soon. The sensation is prodigious. 

Don G. 0, it is a trick ! It must be a trick ! 

Sec. But he has brought home the proofs of his visit, — 
gold and precious stones, strange plants and animals ; and, 
above all, specimens of a new race of men, copper-colored, 
with straight hair. 

Don G. Still I say, a trick ! He has been coasting 
along the African shore, and there collected a few curiosi- 
ties, which he is palming off for proofs of his pretended 
discovery. 

Sec. It is a little singular that all his men should be 
leagued with him in keeping up so unprofitable a falsehood. 

Don G. But 'tis against reason, against common sense, 
that such a discovery should be made. 

Sec. King John of Portugal has received him with royal 
magnificence, has listened to his accounts, and is persuaded 
that they are true. 

Don G. We shall see, we shall see. Look you, sir, a 
plain matter-of-fact man, such as I, is not to be taken in 
by any such preposterous story. This vaunted discovery 
will turn out no discovery at all. 

Sec. The king and queen have given orders for prepara- 
tions on the most magnificent scale for the reception of 
Columbus. 

Don G. What delusion ! Her Majesty is so credulous 
A practical, common-sense man, like myself, can find no 
points of sympathy in her nature. 



124 THE FIFTH READER. 

Sec. The Indians on board the returned vessels are said 
to be unlike any known race of men. 

Don G. Very unreliable all that ! I take the common- 
sense view of the thing. I am a matter-of-fact man ; and 
do you remember what I say, it will all turn out a trick ! 
The crews may have been deceived. Columbus may have 
steered a southerly course instead of a westerly. Any- 
thing is probable, rather than that a coast to the westward 
of us has been discovered. 

Sec. I saw the courier, who told me he had conversed 
with all the sailors ; and they laughed at the suspicion 
that there could be any mistake about the discovery, or 
that any other than a westerly course had been steered. 

Don G. Still I say, a trick ! An unknown coast reached 
by steering west ? Impossible ! The earth a globe, and 
men standing with their heads down in space ? Folly ! 
An ignorant sailor from Genoa in the right, and all our 
learned doctors and philosophers in the wrong ? Nonsense ! 
I'm a matter-of-fact man, sir. I will believe what I can 
see, and handle, and understand. But as for believing in 
the antipodes, or that the earth is round, or that Colum- 
bus has discovered land to the west — Eing the bell, sir ; 
call my carriage ; I will go to the palace and undeceive 
the king. vinet. 



XLV. — THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS. 

i. 

KING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal 
sport, 
And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court ; 
The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride, 
And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom 

he sighed : 
And truly 't was a gallant thing to see that crowning show, — 
Valor and love, and a kin^ above, and the roval beasts below. 



THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS. 125 

II. 

Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws ; 
They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with 

their paws ; 
With wallowing might and stifled roar, they rolled on one an- 
other, 
Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thunderous 

smother ; 
The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the 

air : 
Said Francis, then, " Faith, gentlemen, we 're better here than 

there." 

in. 
De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, — a beauteous, lively dame, 
With smiling lips, and sharp, bright eyes, which always seemed 

the same ; 
She thought, " The Count, my lover, is brave as brave can be, 
He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me j 
King, ladies, lovers, all look on ; the occasion is divine ; 
I Tl drop my glove, to prove his love ; great glory will be 

mine." 

IV. 

She dropped her glove, to prove his love; then looked at him, 

and smiled ; 
He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild : 
The leap was quick, return was quick, he soon regained the 

place, 
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face. 
"In faith," cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from 

where he sat ; 
" No love" quoth he, " but vanity, sets love a task like that." 

Leigh Hunt. 

EXERCISE. 

1. King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport. 

2. The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies by their side. 

3. Truly 't was a gallant thing to see that crowning show. 

4. The lions ramped and roared, with horrid laughing jaws. 

5. They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams. 

6. No love, quoth he, but vanity, sets love a task like that 



126 THE FIFTH KEADEK. 

XL VI. — THE PERSIAN AND HIS THREE SONS 

AEICH Persian, feeling himself growing old, and con- 
scious that the cares and anxieties of business were 
too much for him, resolved to divide his goods among his 
three sons, reserving a small portion to himself as a provision 
for his latter years. The sons were all well satisfied with 
the distribution, and each took his share with thanks, and 
promised that it should be well and frugally employed. 

2. "When this important business was settled, the father 
said to his sons, " There is one thing which I have not 
included in the share of any one of you. It is this costly 
diamond which you see in my hand. I will give it to that 
one of you who shall earn it by the noblest deed. Go, 
therefore, and travel for three months ; at the end of that 
time we will meet here again, and you shall tell me what 
you have done." 

3. The sons departed accordingly, and traveled three 
months, each in a different direction. At the end of that 
time they returned ; and all came together to their father 
to give an account of their journey. 

4. The eldest son spoke first. He said : " On my jour- 
ney a stranger intrusted to me a great number of valuable 
jewels, without taking any account of them. Indeed, I was 
well aware that he did not know how many the parcel 
contained. One or two of them would never have been 
missed, and I might easily have enriched myself without 
/ear of detection. But I did no such thing ; I gave back 
the parcel exactly as I had received it. Was not this a 
noble deed ? " 

5. " My son," said the father, " simple honesty cannot 
be called noble. You did what was right, and nothing 
more. If you had acted otherwise, you would have been 
dishonest, and your deed would have shamed you. You 
have done well, but not nobly." 



THE PERSIAN AND HIS THREE SONS. 127 

6. The second son now spoke. He said : "As I was 
wending on my journey, I one day saw a poor child play- 
ing by the margin of a lake ; and, just as I rode by, it fell 
into the water, and was in danger of being drowned. I 
immediately dismounted from my horse, and, wading into 
the water, brought it safe to land. All the people of the 
village where this occurred can bear witness of the deed. 
Was it not a noble action ? " 

7. " My son," replied the old man, " you did only what 
was your duty, and you could hardly have left the inno- 
cent child to die without making an effort to save it. You, 
too, have acted well, but not nobly." 

8. Then the third son came forward to tell his tale. 
He said : " I had an enemy, who for years has done me 
much harm and sought to take my life. One evening, dur- 
ing my late journey, I was passing along a dangerous road 
which ran beside the summit of a steep cliff. As I rode 
cautiously along, my horse started at sight of something 
lying in the road. I dismounted to see what it was, and 
found my enemy lying fast asleep on the very edge of the 
cliff. The least movement in his sleep, and he must have 
rolled over, and would have been dashed to pieces on the 
rocks below. His life was in my hands. I drew him away 
from the edge, and then woke him, and told him to go on 
his way in peace." 

9. Then the old Persian cried out, in a transport of joy, 
" Dear son, the diamond is thine ; for it is a noble and a 
godlike thing to succor an enemy, and to reward evil with 
good." 

EXERCISE. 

1. A Persian resolved to divide his goods among his sons, 

2. He reserved a small portion to himself. 

3. The sons departed, and traveled three months. 

4. I might have enriched myself without fear of detection. 

5. I gave back the parcel exactly as I had received it. 

6. I immediately dismounted from my horse. 

7. The people of the village where this occurred can bear witness. 



128 THE FIFTH EEADEK. 

XLVII. — THE MILLER OF THE DEE, 

i. 

THERE dwelt a miller hale and bold 
Beside the river Dee ; 
He worked and sang from morn till night : 

No lark more blithe than he. 
And this the burden of his song 

Forever used to be, — 
" I envy nobody, no, not I, 
And nobody envies me ! " 

ii. 
" Thou 'rt wrong, my friend," said old King Hal, 

" Thou 'rt wrong as wrong can be ; 
For could my heart be light as thine, 

I 'd gladly change with thee. 
And tell me now, what makes thee sing 

With voice so loud and free, 
While I am sad, though I am king, 

Beside the river Dee % " 

in. 
The miller smiled, and doffed his cap. 

" I earn my bread," quoth he, 
" I love my wife, I love my friend, 

I love my children three ; 
I owe no penny I cannot pay ; 

I thank the river Dee, 
That turns the mill and grinds the corn 

To feed my babes and me." 

IV. 

"Good friend," said Hal, and sighed the while, 

" Farewell, and happy be ; 
But say no more, if thou 'dst be true, 

That no man envies thee : 
Thy mealy cap is worth my crown, 

Thy mill my kingdom's fee ; 

Such men as thou are England's boast, 

miller of the Dee ! " 

0. Mackay, 



THE BROOK. 1^9 

XL VIII. — THE BROOK. 

ASHEPHEBD by the side of a brook complainingly 
sang, in his grief, of his sad and irrep'arable loss. 
His pet lamb had lately been drowned in the neighboring 
river. Having heard the shepherd, the brook thus began 
to murmur indignantly : — 

2. " Insatiable river ! how would it be if thy depths, like 
mine, were clearly visible to all eyes, and every one could see, 
in thy most secret recesses, all the victims which thou hast so 
greedily swallowed up ? I think that thou wouldst dive into 
the earth for shame, and hide thyself in its dark abysses. 

3. " Methinks that, if fate gave me such copious waters, I 
should become an ornament to Xature, and would never 
hurt even so much as a chicken. How cautiously should 
my waves roll past every bush, every cottage ! My shores 
would only bless me, and I should bring fresh life to the 
adjacent valleys and meadows, without robbing them of so 
much as even a single leaflet. Then, in a word, I should 
perform my journey in a kindly spirit, nowhere causing 
misfortune or sorrow, and my waters should flow right 
down to the sea as pure as silver." 

4. So spake the brook, and so it really meant. But what 
happened ? A week had not gone by before a heavy rain- 
cloud burst upon a neighboring hill. In its affluence of 
waters the brook suddenly rivaled the river. But, alas ! 
what has become of the brook's tranquillity ? The brook 
overflows its banks with turbid waters. It seethes ; it 
roars ; it flings about masses of soiled foam. It overthrows 
ancestral oaks ; their crashing may be heard afar. And, at 
last, that very shepherd, on whose account it lately up- 
braided the river with such a flow of eloquence, perished 
in it with all his flock, and of his cottage not even a trace- 
was left behind. 

5. How many brooks are there which flow along so 
smoothly, so peacefully, and murmur so sweetly to the 
heart, only because they have so little water in them ! 

Krilof. 



130 THE FIFTH READER. 



XLIX. — THE RETORT. 

i. 

ONE day, a rich man, flushed with pride and wine, 
Sitting with guests at table, all quite merry, 
Conceived it would be vastly fine 
To crack a joke upon his secretary. 

ii. 
" Young man," said he, " by what art, craft, or trade 

Did your good father earn his livelihood ] " 
" He was a saddler, sir," the young man said ; 

u And in his line was always reckoned good." 

in. 
" A saddler, eh ? and had you stuffed with Greek, 

Instead of teaching you like him to do ! 
And pray, sir, why did not your father make 

A saddler, too, of you *i " 
At this each flatterer, as in duty bound, 

The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. 

IV. 

At length the secretary, bowing low, 

Said, (craving pardon if too free he made,) 

" Sir, by your leave, I fain would know 
Your father's trade." 

v. 

" My father's trade ? Why, sir, but that 's too bad ! 

My father's trade ] Why, blockhead, art thou mad 1 
My father, sir, was never brought so low : 

He was a gentleman, I 'd have you know." 

VI. 

" Indeed ! excuse the liberty I take ; 

But if your story 's true, 
How happened it your father did not make 

A gentleman of you % " 



USING THE EYES. 131 

L. — USING THE EYES. 

THE difference between men consists, in great meas- 
ure, in the intelligence of their observation. The 
Russian proverb says of the non-observant man, " He 
goes through the forest and sees no firewood." " The 
wise man's eyes are in his head," says Solomon; "but 
the fool walketh in darkness." 

2. " Sir," said Johnson, on one occasion, to a fine gen- 
tleman, just returned from Italy, "some men will learn 
more in the Hampstead stage than others in the tour of 
Europe." It is the mind that sees as well as the eye. 

3. Many, before Galileo, had seen a suspended weight 
swing before their eyes with a measured beat ; but he was 
the first to detect the value of the fact. One of the vergers, 
in the cathedral at Pisa, after replenishing with oil a lamp 
which swung from the roof, left it swinging to and fro; 
and Galileo, then a youth of only eighteen, noting it at- 
tentively, conceived the idea of applying it to the measure- 
ment of time, 

4. Fifty years of study and labor, however, elapsed be- 
fore he completed the invention of his pendulum, — an 
invention the importance of which, in the measurement 
of time, and in astronomical calculations, can scarcely be 
overvalued. 

5. While Captain (afterwards Sir Samuel) Brown was 
occupied in studying the construction of bridges, with the 
view of contriving one of a cheap description to be thrown 
across the Tweed, near which he lived, he was walking 
in his garden one dewy morning, when he saw a tiny 
spider's-net suspended across his path. The idea im- 
mediately occurred to him, that a bridge of iron ropes 
or chains might be constructed in like manner, and the 
result was the invention of his Suspension Bridge. 

6. So James Watt, when consulted about the mode of 
carrying water by pipes under the Clyde, along the unequal 
bed of the river, turned his attention, one day, to the shell 



132 THE FIFTH READER. 

of a lobster presented at table ; and from that model he in- 
vented an iron tube, which, when laid down, was found 
effectually to answer the purpose. 

7. Brunei took his first lessons in forming the Thames 
Tunnel from the tiny shipworm. He saw how the little 
creature perforated the wood with its well-armed head, 
first in one direction and then in another, till the arch- 
way was complete, and then daubed over the roof ancj 
sides with a kind of varnish ; and by copying this work 
exactly on a large scale, he was at length enabled to ac- 
complish- his great engineering work. 

8. So trifling a matter as the sight of sea-weed floating 
past his ship enabled Columbus to quell the mutiny which 
arose amongst his sailors at not discovering land, and to 
assure them that the eagerly sought New World was not 
far off. 

9. It is the close observation of little things which is 
the secret of success in business, in art, in science, and in 
every pursuit in life. Though many of these facts and 
observations seemed in the first instance to have but slight 
significance, they are all found to have their eventual uses ; 
and to fit into their proper places. Samuel Smiles. 



EXERCISE. 

1. The difference between men consists in the intelligence of their 

observation. [Clearness of seeing things.] 

2. The non-observant man goes through the forest and sees no fire- 

wood. 

3. One of the vergers in the cathedral replenished a lamp with oiL 

[Petty officers ; sextons.] 

4. Galileo, a youth of eighteen, noted it attentively. 

5. Fifty years elapsed before he completed the invention. 

6. Captain Brown saw a tiny spider suspended across his path. 

7. Brunei saw how the shipworm perforaied the wood. 

8. Columbus quelled the mutiny among his sailors. 

9. The eagerly sought New World was not far off. 

10. These things .seemed to have but slight significance. 



FITZ-JAMES AND RODERICK DHU. 133 

LL — FITZ- JAMES AND RODERICK DHU. 

RODERICK. Thy name and purpose, Saxon ! Stand ! 
F it z- James. A stranger. 

Rod. What dost thou require % 

Fitz. Best, and a guide, and food, and fire. 
My life 's beset, my path is lost, 
The gale has chilled my limbs with frost. 

Rod, Art thou a friend to Roderick ] 

Fitz. No ! 

Rod. Thou darest not call thyself a foe 1 

Fitz. I dare ! To him and all the band 
He brings to aid his murderous hand. 

Rod. Bold words ! But though the beast of game 
The privilege of chase may claim, 
Though space and law the stag we lend 
Ere hound we slip or bow we bend, 
Who ever recked, where, how, or when 
The prowling fox was trapped or slain ] 
Thus treacherous scouts — yet sure they lie 
Who say thou canrst a secret spy ! 

Fitz. They do, by Heaven ! Come Roderick Dhu, 
And of his clan the boldest two, 
And let me but till morning rest, 
I write the falsehood on their crest. 

Rod. If by the blaze I mark aright, 
Thou bearest the belt and spurs of knight. 

Fitz. Then by these tokens mayst thou know 
Each proud oppressor's mortal foe. 

Rod. Enough, enough ! Sit down and share 
A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare. 

Walter Scott. 

EXERCISE. 

Substitute the following words in the above piece where they 

will make sense. 

1. Intention — Halt, 6. Wind — severe cold. 11. Perfidious spies. 

2. A person not known. 7. An enemy. 12. Tribe — bravest. 

3. Do you need? 8. Help — blood-thirsty. 13. Lie — helmet, 

4. Repose — pilot. 9. Deer — dog. 14. Fire-light — sea. 

5. Besieged — way. 10. Cared — caught. 15. Signs — deadly. 



134 the fifth reader. 

JjII. — A gigantic iceberg. 

AT twelve o'clock we went below, and had just got 
through dinner, when the cook put his head down 
che scuttle and told us to come on deck and see the finest 
sight that we had ever seen. " Where away, cook ? " asked 
the first man who was up. " On the larboard bow." 

2. And there lay, floating in the ocean, several miles off, 
an immense irregular mass, its top and points covered with 
snow, and its center of a deep indigo color. This was an 
iceberg, and of the largest size, as one of our men said who 
had been in the Northern Ocean. 

3. As far as the eye could reach, the sea in every direc- 
tion was of a deep blue color, the waves running high and 
fresh, and sparkling in the light, and in the midst lay this 
immense mountain-island, its cavities and valleys thrown 
into deep shade, and its points and pinnacles glittering in 
the sun. All hands were soon on deck looking at it, and 
admiring in various ways its beauty and grandeur. 

4. But no description can give any idea of the strange- 
ness, splendor, and, really, the sublimity of the sight. Its 
great size, — for it must have been two or three miles in cir- 
cumference, and several hundred feet in height, — its slow 
motion as its base rose and sank in the water, and its high 
points nodded against the clouds ; the dashing of the 
waves upon it, which, breaking high with foam, lined its 
base with a white crust ; and the thundering sound of the 
crackling of the mass, and the breaking and tumbling down 
of huge pieces ; together with its nearness and approach, 
which added a slight element of fear, — all combined to 
give it the character of true sublimity. 

5. The main body of the mass was, as I have said, of an 
indigo color, its base crusted with frozen foam ; and as it 
grew thin and transparent towards the edges and top, its 
color shaded off from a deep blue to the whiteness of snow. 
It seemed to be drifting slowly towards the north, so that 
we kept away and avoided it. It was in sight all the after- 



A GIGANTIC ICEBERG. 135 

noon, and when we got to leeward of it, the wind died 
away, so that we lay to quite near it for a greater part of 
the night. 

6. Unfortunately there was no moon ; but it was a clear 
night, and we could plainly mark the long, regular heaving 
of the stupendous mass, as its edges moved slowly against 
the stars. Several times in our watch loud cracks were 
heard, which sounded as though they must have run 
through the whole length of the iceberg, and several pieces 
fell dow r n with a thundering crash, plunging heavily into 
the sea. Towards morning a strong breeze sprang up, and 
we filled away and left it astern, and at daylight it was out 
of sight, 

7. No pencil has ever yet given anything like the true 
effect of an iceberg. In a picture they are huge, uncouth 
masses stuck in the sea ; while their chief beauty and 
grandeur — their slow, stately motion, the whirling of the 
snow about their summits, and the fearful groaning and 
crackling of their parts — the picture cannot give. This is 
the large iceberg ; while the small and distant islands, float- 
ing on the smooth sea, in the light of a clear day, look like 
little floating fairy isles of sapphire. r. h. Dana. 



EXERCISE. 

1. The iceberg was on the larboard bow. [Left-hand side, forward.] 

2. It was an immense irregular mass. 

3. Its cavities and valleys were thrown into deep shade. 

4. The pinnacles glittered in the sun. 

5. It must have been two or three miles in circumference. 

6. Huge pieces broke and tumbled down. 

7. It seemed to be drifting slowly towards the north. 

8. We lay to quite near it a greater part of the night. [Stopped.] 

9. Unfortunately there was no moon; but it was a clear night. 

10. We could plainly mark the long, regular heaving of the stupen- 

dous mass. 

11. A strong breeze sprung up, and we left the iceberg astern. 

12. They looked like little floating fairy isles of sapphire. [Blue 

crystal.] 



136 THE FIFTH BEADEB. 

Ull—HYMJf OF THE MOUNTAINEERS. 

ALL. 

FOB, the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our 
fathers' God ! 

FIRST VOICE. 

Thou hast made Thy children mighty, by the touch of the 

mountain sod. 
Thou hast fixed our ark of refuge where the spoiler's foot ne'er 

trod ; 

ALL. 

For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers' 
God! 

SECOND VOICE. 

We are watchers of a beacon whose light must never die ; 
We are guardians of an altar midst the silence of the sky ; 
The rocks yield founts of courage, struck forth as by Thy rod ; 

ALL. 

For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers' 
God! 

THIRD VOICE. 

For the dark-resounding caverns, where Thy still small voice is 

heard ; 
For the strong pines of the forests, that by Thy breath are 

stirred ; 
For the storms, on whose free pinions Thy spirit walks abroad ; 

ALL. 

For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers' 
God! 

FOURTH VOICE. 

The royal eagle darteth on his quarry from the heights, 
And the stag that knows no master seeks there his wild de- 
lights ; 
But we, for Thy communion, have sought the mountain sod. 

ALL. 

For the strength of the nills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers' 
God! 



THE AMERICAN INDIAtf. 137 

FIFTH VOICE. 

The banner of the chieftain far, far below ns waves ; 

The war-horse of the spearman cannot reach our lofty caves, 

Thy dark clouds wrap the threshold of Freedom's last abode ; 

ALL. 

For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers 5 
God! 

SIXTH VOICE. 

For the shadow of Thy presence round our camp of rock out- 

spread ; 
For the stern defiles of battle, bearing record of our dead ; 
For the snows and for the torrents, for the free heart's burial 

sod, 

ALL. 

For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our 

fathers' God ! 

Mrs, Remans. 



JAY, — THE AMERICAN INDIAN 

"A "TOT many generations ago, where you. now sit, circled 
_|_M with all that exalts and embellishes civilized life, the 
rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild fox dug his 
hole unscared. Here lived and loved another race of beings. 
Beneath the same sun that rolls over your heads, the Indian 
hunter pursued the panting deer ; gazing on the same moon 
that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate. 

2. Here the wigwam blaze beamed on the tender and 
helpless, the council-fire glared on the wise and daring. 
Now they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy lakes, 
and now they paddled the light canoe along your rocky 
shores. Here they warred ; the echoing whoop, the bloody 
grapple, the defying death-song, all were here ; and when 
the tiger strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace. 

3. Here, too, they worshiped ; and from many a dark 
bosom went up a pure prayer to the Great Spirit. He 
had not written his laws for them on tables of stone, but 



138 THE FIFTH READER. 

he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. The 
poor child of nature knew not the God of revelation, but 
the God of the universe he acknowledged in everything 
around. 

4. He beheld him in the star that sunk in beauty behind 
his lonely dwelling ; in the sacred orb that flamed on him 
from his midday throne ; in the flower that snapped in the 
morning breeze ; in the lofty pine that defied a thousand 
whirlwinds ; in the timid warbler, that never left its na- 
tive grove ; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was 
wet in clouds ; in the worm that crawled at his feet ; and 
in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that 
light to whose mysterious source he bent, in humble 
though blind adoration. 

5. And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came 
a pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The 
former were sown for you ; the latter sprang up in the path 
of the simple native. Two hundred years have changed the 
character of a great continent, and blotted forever from its 
face a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers 
of nature, and the children of education have been too 
powerful for the tribes of the ignorant. 

6. Here and there a stricken few remain ; but how 
unlike their bold, untamed, untamable progenitors ! The 
Indian of falcon glance and lion bearing — the theme of the 
touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale — is gone ! and 
his degraded offspring crawl upon the soil where he walked 
in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man when the 

foot of the Conqueror is On his neck. Clmrles Sprague. 



EXERCISE. 

1. You are circled with all that exalts and embellishes civilized life. 

2. The thistle nodded in the wind, and the fox dug his hole unscared 

3. The Indian hunter pursued the panting deer. 

4. The ivigwam blaze beamed on the tender and helpless. 

5. Here and there a stricken few remain. 

6. How unlike their bold, untamed progenitors. [Ancestors.] 



FIDELITY. 139 

LV. — FIDELITY. 

i. 

A BARKING sound the shepherd hears. 
A cry as of a dog or fox ; — 
He halts, and searches with his eyes 

Among the scattered rocks : 
And now, at distance, can discern 
A stirring in a brake of fern, 
From which immediately leaps out 
A dog, and, yelping, runs about. 

II. 

The dog is not of mountain breed ; 

Its motions, too, are wild and shy ; 
With something — as the shepherd thinks - 

Unusual in its cry : 
Nor is there any one in sight, 
All round, in hollow or on height ; 
Nor shout nor whistle strikes his ear ; — 
What is the creature doing here % 

in. 
It was a cove, a huge recess, 

That keeps, till June, December's snow. 
A lofty precipice in front, 

A silent tarn below ! 
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn, 
Remote from public road or dwelling, 
Pathway or cultivated land, 
From trace of human foot or hand. 

IV. 

There, sometimes, does a leaping fish 

Send through the tarn a lonely cheer ; 
The crags repeat the raven's croak, 

In symphony austere. 
Thither the rainbow comes ; the cloud t 
And mists, that spread the flying shroud ; 
And sunbeams ; and the sounding blast, 
That, if it could, would hurry past ; — 
But that enormous barrier binds it fast 



140 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

v. 

Not knowing what to think, awhile 

The shepherd stood ; then makes his way 
Towards the dog, o'er rocks and stones, 

As quickly as he may ; 
Nor far had gone, before he found 
A human skeleton on the ground, — 
Sad sight ! the shepherd, with a sigh, 
Looks round, to learn the history. 

VI.. 

From those abrupt and perilous rocks 

The man had fallen, — that place of fear ! — 
At length, upon the shepherd's mind 

It breaks, and all is clear. 
He instantly recalled the name, 
And who he was, and whence he came \ 
Remembered, too, the very day 
On which the traveler passed this way. 

VII. 

But hear a wonder now, for sake 
Of which this mournful tale I tell ! 

A lasting monument of words 
This wonder merits well : — 

The dog, which still was hovering nigh, 

Repeating the same timid cry, — 

This dog had been, through three months' space, 

A dweller in that savage place. 

VIII. 

Yes, proof was plain, that, since the day 
On which the traveler thus had died, 
The dog had watched about the spot, 

Or by his master's side : 
How nourished here, through such long time, 
lie knows who gave that love sublime, 
And gave that strength of feeling, great 
Above all human estimate. 

Wordsworth. 



THE CRUISE OF THE DOLPHIN. 141 

LVL— THE CRUISE OF THE DOLPHIN. 

IT was a proud moment when I stood on the wharf with 
my three partners, inspecting the Dolphin, moored at 
the foot of a very slippery flight of steps. She was painted 
white, with a green stripe outside ; and on the stern a yel- 
low dolphin, with its scarlet mouth wide open, stared with 
a surprised expression at its own reflection in the water. 
The boat was ours, — just bought at a great bargain. 

2. Xot long after the purchase of the boat we planned 
an excursion to Sandpeep Island, the last of the islands in 
the harbor. We proposed to start early in the morning, 
and return with the tide in the moonlight. 

3. We were up before sunrise, in order to take advantage 
of the flood tide, which waits for no man. Our prepara- 
tions for the cruise were made the previous evening. In 
the way of eatables and drinkables, we had stored in the 
stern of the Dolphin a generous bag of hard-tack (for the 
chowder), a piece of pork to fry the dinners in, three gigan- 
tic apple-pies, half a dozen lemons, and a keg of spring- 
water, — the last-named article we slung over the side to 
keep it cool, as soon as we got under way. 

4. The crockery and the bricks for our camp-stove we 
placed in the bows with the groceries, which included 
sugar, pepper, salt, and a bottle of pickles. Phil Adams 
contributed to the outfit a small tent of unbleached cotton 
cloth, under which we intended to take our nooning. 

5. Charley Marden, whose father had promised to cane 
him if he ever stepped foot on sail or row boat, came down 
to the wharf in a sour-grape humor, to see us off. Nothing 
would tempt him to go out on the river in such a crazy 
clam-shell of a boat. He pretended that he did not expect 
to behold us alive again, and tried to throw a wet blanket 
over the expedition. 

6. " Guess you '11 have a squally time of it," said Char- 
ley, casting off the painter. 

7. " Bosh !" muttered Phil Adams, sticking the boat-hook 



142 - THE FIFTH BEADER. 

into the string-piece of the wharf, and sending the Dolphin 
half a dozen yards towards the current. 

8. How calm and lovely the river was ! Not a ripple 
stirred on the glassy surface, broken only by the sharp cut- 
water of our tiny craft. The sun, as round and red as an 
August moon, was by this time peering above the w T ater- 
line. 

9. The town had drifted behind us, and we w T ere enter- 
ing among the group of islands. Sometimes we could 
almost touch with our boat-hook the shelving banks on 
either side. As we neared the mouth of the harbor, a lit- 
tle breeze now and then w T rinkled the blue water, shook 
the spangles from the foliage, and gently lifted the spiral 
mist-wreaths that still clung along-shore. 

10. The measured dip of our oars, and the drowsy twit- 
terings of the birds, seemed to mingle with, rather than 
break, the enchanted silence that reigned about us. The 
scent of the new clover comes back to me now, as I recall 
that delicious morning when we floated away in a fairy 
boat down a river, like a dream. 

11. The sun was well up when the nose of the Dolphin 
nestled against the snow-white bosom of Sandpeep Island. 
This island was the last of the cluster, one side of it being 
washed by the sea. 

12. It took us an hour or two to transport our stores to 
the spot selected for the encampment. Having pitched 
our tent, using the five oars to support the canvas, we got 
out our lines, and went down the rocks seaward to fish. 

13. It was early for cunners, but w T e were lucky enough 
to catch as nice a mess as ever you saw. A cod for the 
chowder was not so easily secured. At last Binny Wal- 
lace hauled in a plump little fellow, crusted all over with 
flaky silver. 

14. To skin the fish, build our fireplace, and cook the 
chowder kept us busy the next two hours. The fresh air 
and the exercise had given us the appetites of wolves, and 
we were about famished by the time the savory mixture 
was ready for our clam-shell saucers. 



THE CRUISE OF THE DOLPHIN. 



143 




15. How happy we were, we four, sitting cross-legged in 
the crisp salt grass, with the invigorating sea-breeze blow- 
ing gratefully through our hair ! What a joyous tiling was 
life, and how far off seemed death, — death, that lurks in 
all pleasant places, and was so near ! 



144 * THE FIFTH HEADER. 

16. The wind had freshened by this, and we found it 
comfortable to put on the jackets which had been thrown 
aside in the heat of the day. We strolled along the beach, 
and gathered large quantities of the fairy-woven Iceland 
moss, which, at certain seasons, is washed to these shores ; 
then we played at ducks and drakes, and then, the sun 
being sufficiently low, we went in bathing. 

17. Before our bath was ended, a slight change had come 
over the sky and sea; fleecy white clouds scudded here 
and there, and a muffled moan from the breakers caught 
our ears from time to time. While we were dressing, a 
few hurried drops of rain came lisping down, and we ad- 
journed to the tent to await the passing of the squall. 

18. " We 're all right, anyhow," said Phil Adams. " It 
won't be much of a blow, and we 11 be as snug as a bug in 
a rug, here in the tent, particularly if we have that lemon- 
ade which some of you fellows were going to make." 

19. By an oversight, the lemons had been left in the 
boat. Binny Wallace volunteered to go for them. 

20. "Put an extra stone on the painter, Binny," said 
Adams, calling after him ; "it would be awkward to have 
the Dolphin give us the slip, and return to port minus 
her passengers." 

21. " That it would," answered Binny, scrambling down 
the rocks. 

22. Binny Wallace had been absent five or six minutes, 
when we heard him calling our several names in tones that 
indicated distress or surprise, we could not tell which. 
Our first thought was, " The boat has broken adrift ! " 

23. We sprang to our feet and hastened down to the 
beach. On turning the bluff which hid the mooring-place 
from view, we found the conjecture correct. Not only was 
the Dolphin afloat, but poor little Binny Wallace was 
standing in the bows with his arms stretched helplessly 
towards us — drifting out to sea) 

24. u Head the boat in shore !" shouted Phil Adams. 
Wallace ran to the tiller; but the slight cockle-shell 



THE CKUISE OF THE DOLPHHS 145 

merely swung round and drifted broadside on. 0, if we 
had but left a single scull in the Dolphin ! 

25 " Can you swim it?" cried Adams, desperately, 
using his hand as a speaking-trumpet, for the distance 
between the boat and the island widened momently. 

26. Binny Wallace looked down at the sea, which was 
covered with white caps, and made a despairing gesture. 
He knew, and we knew, that the stoutest swimmer could 
not live forty seconds in those angry waters. 

27. A wild, insane light came into Phil Adams's eyes, 
as he stood knee-deep in the boiling surf, and for an in- 
stant I think he meditated plunging into the ocean after 
the receding boat, 

28. The sky darkened, and an ugly look stole rapidly 
over the broken surface of the sea. 

29. Binny Wallace half rose from his seat in the stern, 
t tnd waved liis hand to us in token of farewell. In spite 
of the distance, increasing every instant, we could see his 
face plainly. The anxious expression it wore at first had 
passed. It was pale and meek now ; and I love to think 
there was a kind of halo about it, like that which the 
painters place around the forehead of a saint. So he 
drifted away., T. B. Aldrick 



EXERCISE. 

1. We stood on the wharf inspecting the Dolphin. 

2. " Guess you '11 have a squally time of it," said Charley; 

3. He cast off the painter. [Eope used to fasten the boat. 

4. How calm and lovely the river was ! 

5. Not a ripple stirred on the glassy surface. 

6. The sun was peering above the water-line. « 

7. A little breeze shook the spangles from the foliage. 

8. It took us an hour or two to transport our stores. 

9. We strolled along the beach and gathered moss. 

10. We sprang to our feet and hastened down to the beach. 

11. On turning the bluff we found the conjecture correct 

12. I think he meditated plunging into the ocean. 

Ail 



146 THE FIFTH KEADEK. 

LVI1.— FARMER JOHN. 

i. 

HOME from his journey, Farmer John 
Arrived this morning, safe and sound : 
His black coat off, and his old clothes on, 
" Now I 'm myself," said Farmer John ; 
And he thinks, "I'll look around." 
Up leaps the dog : " Get down, you pup ! 
Are you so glad you would eat me up ? " 
The old cow lows at the gate, to greet him ; 
The horses prick up their ears, to meet him. 
" Well, well, old Bay ! 
Ha, ha, old Gray ! 
Do you get good feed when I 'm away ? 

ii. 
" You have n't a rib," says Farmer John ; 

" The cattle are looking round and sleek ; 
The colt is going to be a roan, 
And a beauty, too ; how he has grown ! 

We '11 wean the calf in a week." 
Says Farmer John, " When I 've been off, 
To call you again about the trough, 
And watch you and pet you while you drink 
Is a greater comfort than you can think ! " 
And he pats old Bay 
And he slaps old Gray ; 
" Ah ! this is the comfort of going away. 

in. 
" For, after all," says Farmer John, 

" The best of a journey is getting home : 
I 've seen great sights, but I would not give 
This spot, and the peaceful life I live, 

For all their Paris and Rome ; 
These hills for the city's stifled air, 
And big hotels and bustle and glare ; 
Land all houses and roads all stones, 
That deafen your ears and batter your bones 1 
Would you, old Bay ? 
Would you, old Gray 1 
That 's what one geia by going: away. 



FARMER JOHN. 147 

IV. 

"There Money is king," says Farmer John, 

"And Fashion is queen ; and it 's mighty queer 
To see how sometimes, while the man 
Is raking and scraping all he can, 

The wife spends, every year, 
Enough, you would think, for a score of wives, 
To keep them in luxury all their lives ! 
The town is a perfect Babylon 
To a quiet chap," says Farmer John. 

" You see, old Bay, 

You see, old Gray, 
I 'm wiser than when I went away. 

v. 
" I 've found out this," says Farmer John, 

" That happiness is not bought and sold, 
And clutched in a life of waste and hurry, 
In nights of pleasure and days of worry ; 

And wealth is n't all in gold, 
Mortgage and stocks, and ten per cent, 
But in simple ways and sweet content, 
Few wants, pure hopes, and noble ends, 
Some land to till, and a few good friends, 
• . Like you, old Bay, 
And you, old Gray, — 
That 's what I 've learned by going away." 

VI. 

And a happy man is Farmer John, — 

0, a rich and happy man is he ! 
He sees the pease and pumpkins growing, 
The corn in tassel, the buckwheat blowing, 

And fruit on vine and tree ; 
The large kind oxen look their thanks, 
As he rubs their foreheads and strokes their flanks ; 
The doves light round him, and strut and coo : 
Says Farmer John, " I '11 take you, too, — 
And you, old Bay, 
And you, old Gray, 
Next time I travel so far away." 

J. T. Trowbridge 



148 THE FIFTH EEADER. 

LVIII.— THE TOWN PUMP. 

I HOLD high office in the town, being guardian of the 
best treasure it has ; and I exhibit, moreover, an ad- 
mirable example to the other officials, by the cool and 
downright discharge of my business, and the constancy 
with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter, no- 
body seeks me in vain ; for all day long I am seen at the 
busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my 
arms to rich and poor. 

2. At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched 
populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my 
waist. To all and sundry I cry aloud, at the very top of 
my voice : " Here it is, gentlemen ! here is the good liquor ! 
here is the unadulterated ale of Father Adam ! better than 
brandy, wine, or beer ; here it is, and not a cent to pay. 
Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, and help yourselves ! " 

3. It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no cus- 
tomers. Here they come. " A hot day, gentlemen ! Quaff 
and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice cool 
sweat. You, my friend ! will need another cupful to wash 
the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is 
on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half 
a score of miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed 
by the taverns and stopped at the running brooks and bub- 
bling springs. Drink, and make room for that other fellow 
who seeks my aid to quench the fever of last night's pota- 
tions, which he drained from no cup of mine. 

4. " Welcome, most rubicund sir ! You and I have been 
great strangers hitherto ! But mercy on you, man ! The 
vvater almost hisses down your parched throat. Fill again, 
and tell me, on the word of an honest toper, did you 
ever, in tavern or dramshop, spend the price of your chil- 
dren's food for a swig half so delicious ? 

5. " Who next ? my little friend ! you are just let 
loose from school, and are come here to scrub your bloom- 
ing face, and drown the memory of certain taps of the rod 



THE BIRTHDAY OF SPRING. 149 

by a draft from the Town Pump. Take it, pure as the 
current of your young life ; take it, and may your heart 
and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than 
now! 

6. " There, my dear child ! put down the ci<p, and yield 
your place to this elderly gentleman who treads, so gingerly 
over the paving-stones. What ! he limps by, without so 
much as thanking me, as if my hospitable offices were 
meant only for people who have no wine-cellars 

7. " Well, well, sir ! no harm done, I hope ? Go f draw 
the cork, tip the decanter ; but when your gre&t toe shall 
set you a roaring, it will be no affair of mine. 

8. "This thirsty dog, with his red tongue lolling out. 

does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind legs, 

and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he 

capers away again ! Jowler ! did your worship ever have 

the gout ? " 

Hawthorne. 



LIX. — THE BIRTHDAY OF SPRING. 



CRY Holiday ! Holiday ! let us be gay, 
And share in the rapture of heaven and earth ; 
For see ! what a sunshiny joy they display, 

To welcome the Spring on the day of her birth ; 
While the elements, gladly outpouring their voice, 
Nature's paean proclaim, and in chorus rejoice ! 

ii. 
Loud carols each rill, as it leaps in its bed ; 

The wind brings us music and balm from the south. 
And Earth in delight calls on Echo to spread 

The tidings of joy vith her many-tongued mouth ; 
Over sea, over shore, over mountain and plain, 
Far, far doth she trumpet the jubilee strain 



L50 THE FIFTH READER, 

ill. 
Hark ! hark to the robin ! its magical call 

Awakens the flowerets that slept in the dells ; 
The snow-drop, the primrose, the hyacinth, all 

Attune at the summons their silvery bells. 
Hush ! ting-a-ring-ting ! don't you hear how they sing 1 
They are pealing a fairy-like welcome to Spring. 

IV. 

The love-thrilling wood-birds are wild with delight ; 

Like arrows loud whistling the swallows flit by ; 
The rapturous lark, as he soars out of sight, 

Sends a flood of rich melody down from the sky. 
In the air that they quaff, all the feathery throng 
Taste the spirit of Spring, that outbursts in a song. 

v. 

To me the same vernal whisperings breathe, 
In all that I scent, that I hear, that I meet 

Without and within me, above and beneath : 
Every sense is imbued with a prophecy sweet 

Of the pomp and the pleasantness Earth shall assume 

When adorned, like a bride, in her flowery bloom. 

VI. 

In this transport of nature each feeling takes part ; 

I am thrilling with gratitude, reverence, joy ; 
A new spring of youth seems to gush from my heart, 

And the man is transformed all at once to a boy. 
0, let me run wild, as in earlier years ! 
If my joy be withheld I shall burst into tears. 

Horace Smith 



EXERCISE. 

1. Let us share in the rapture of heaven and earth. 

2. The elements sing* Nature's pcean. [Song of rejoicing. 1 

3. Loud carols each rill as it leaps in its bed. 

4. The rapturous lark sends a flood of rich melody down. 

5. All the feathery throng taste the spirit of Spring. 

6. Earth shall assume pomp and pleasantness. 



THE TEA-ROSE. 151 



LX. — THE TEA ROSE. 



KATE. Cousin, I have been thinking what you are 
to do with your pet rose when you go to New York 
You know it would be a sad pity to leave it with such a 
scatter-brain as I am. I love flowers, indeed ; that is, I 
like a regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to carry to a 
party; but as to all this tending and fussing, which is 
needful to keep them growing, I have no gifts in that line. 

Florence. Make yourself easy as to that, Kate. I have 
no intention of calling upon your talents ; I have an 
asylum in view for my favorite. 

Kate, 0, then you know just what I w T as going to 
say I Mrs. Marshall, I presume, has been speaking to yon : 
she was here yesterday ; and I was quite pathetic upon the 
subject, telling her the loss your favorite would sustain, 
and so forth ; and she said how delighted she would be to 
have it in her greenhouse, — it is in such a fine state now, 
so full of buds. 1 told her I knew you would like to give 
it to her ; you are so fond of Mrs. Marshall, you know. 

Flor. Now, Kate, I am sorry, but I have otherwise 
engaged it. 

Kate. Who can it be to ? you have so few intimates 
here ? 

Flor. 0, it is only one of my odd fancies! 

Kate. But do tell me, Florence. 

Flor. Well, cousin, you know the little pale girl to 
.whom we give sewing? 

Kate. What ! little Mary Stephens ! how absurd, Flor- 
ence ! This is just another of your motherly, old-maidish 
ways, dressing dolls for poor children, making bonnets, and 
knitting socks for all the little dirty babies in the neigh- 
borhood. I do believe you have made more calls in those 
two vile alleys behind our house than ever you have in 
Chestnut Street, and now — to crown all — you must give 
this choice little treasure to a seamstress girl, when one of 
your most intimate friends in your own class would value 



152 THE FIFTH READER. 

it so highly. What in the world can people in their cir- 
cumstances want with flowers ? 

Flor. Just the same that I do. Have you not noticed 
that the little girl never comes here without looking wist- 
fully at the opening buds ? And don't you remember the 
other morning she asked me so prettily if I would let her 
mother come and see it, she was so fond of flowers ? 

Kate. But, Florence, only think of this rare flower 
standing on a table with ham, eggs, cheese, and flour, and 
ctifled in that close little room where Mrs. Stephens and 
her daughter manage to wash, iron, and cook. 

Flor. Well, Kate, and if I were obliged to live in one 
coarse room, and wash, and iron, and cook, as you say ; if 
I had to spend every moment of my time in toil, with no 
prospect from my window but a brick wall and dirty lane, 
such a flower as this would be untold enjoyment to me. 

Kate. Pshaw, Florence ! all sentiment ! Poor people 
have no time to be sentimental. Besides, I don't believe it 
will grow with them ; it is a greenhouse flower, and used 
to delicate living. 

Flor. O, as to that, a flower never inquires whether 
its owner is rich or poor ; and Mrs. Stephens — whatever 
else she has not — has sunshine of as good quality as this 
that streams through our window. The beautiful things 
that God makes are his gifts to all alike. You will see 
that my fair rose will' be as well and cheerful in Mrs. Ste- 
phens's room as in ours. 

Kate. Well, after all, how odd ! When one gives to 
poor people, one wants to give them something useful, — 
a bushel of potatoes, a ham, and such things. 

Flor. Why, certainly potatoes and ham must be sup- 
plied ; but, having administered to the first and most 
craving wants, why not add any other little pleasures or 
gratifications we may have it in our power to bestow ? I 
know there are many of the poor who have fine feeling 
and a keen sense of the beautiful, which rusts out and 
dies, because they are too hard pressed to procure it any 






THE TEA-ROSE. 153 

gratification. Poor Mrs. Stephens, for example, I know 
she would enjoy birds, and flowers, and music as much as 
I do. I have seen her eye light up as she looked upon 
these things in our drawing-room ; and yet not one beauti- 
ful thing can she command. From necessity, her room, her 
clothing, — all she has, — must be coarse and plain. You 
should have seen the rapture she and Mary felt when I 
offered them my rose. 

Kate. Dear me ! all this may be true ; but I never 
thought of it before. I never thought that these hard- 
working people had any ideas of taste ! 

Flor. Then why do you see the geranium or rose so 
carefully nursed in the old cracked teapot in the poorest 
room, or the morning-glory planted in a box, and twined 
about the window? Do not these show that the human 
heart yearns for the beautiful in all ranks of life ? You 
remember, Kate, how our washerwoman sat up a whole 
night, after a hard day's work, to make her first baby a 
pretty dress to be baptized in. 

Kate. Yes ; and I remember how I laughed at you for 
making such a tasteful little cap for it. 

Flor. Well, Katy, I think the look of perfect delight 
with which the poor mother regarded her baby in its new 
dress and cap, was something quite worth creating. I do 
believe she could not have felt more grateful, if I had sent 
her a barrel of flour. 

Kate. Well, I never thought before of giving anything 
to the poor but what they really needed, and I have al- 
ways-been willing to do that when I could without going 
far out of my way. 

Flor. But, cousin, if our Heavenly Father gave to us 
after this mode, we should have only coarse, shapeless piles 
of provisions lying about the world, instead of all this 
beautiful variety of trees and fruits and flowers. 

Kate. Well, well, cousin, I suppose you are right, but 
have mercy upon my poor head : it is too small to hold so 
many new ideas all at once ; so go on your own way. 

H. B. Stowe. 



154 THE FIFTH READER. 

LXL — THE ARCHERY OF WILLIAM TELL 

i. 

PLACE there the boy," the tyrant said : 
" Fix me the apple on his head : 

Ha ! rebel, now ! 
There is a fair mark for thy shaft, — - 
There, try thy boasted archer craft ! " 

With quivering brow 
The Switzer gazed — his cheek grew pale — 
His bold lips throbbed, as if would fail 

Their laboring breath. 
" Ha ! so ye blench ? " fierce Gesler cried : 
" I Ve conquered, slave, thy soul of pride ! " 
No word to that stern taunt replied — 

All still as death. 

ii. 
" And what the meed 1 " at length Tell asked, 
" Bold fool ! when slaves like thee are tasked. 

It is my will ; 
But that thine eye may keener be, 
And nerved to such nice archery, 
If thou succeed'st, thou goest free. 

What ! pause ye still ? 
Give him a bow and arrow there — 
One shaft — but one." Madness, despair, 

And tortured love 
One moment swept the Switzer's face ; 
Then passed away each stormy trace, 
And high resolve reigned like a grace 

Caught from above. 

in. 
" I take thy terms," he murmured low ; 
Grasped eagerly the proffered bow ; 

The quiver searched ; 
Chose out an arrow keen and long, 
Fit for a sinewy arm and strong, — 
Placed it upon the sounding thong, — 

The tough yew arched. 



THE ARCHERY OF WILLIAM TELL. 155 

Deep stillness fell on all around ; 

Through that dense crowd was heard no sound 

Of step or word : 
All watched with fixed and shuddering eye 
To see that fearful arrow fly ; — 
The light w T ind died into a sigh, 

And scarcely stirred. 

IV. 

The gallant boy stood firm and mute, — 
He saw T the strong bow curved to shoot, 

Yet never moved ! 
He knew that pale fear ne'er unmanned 
The daring coolness of that hand ; — 
He knew it w T as the father scanned 

The boy he loved. 

v. 

Slow rose the shaft ; — it trembled — hung. 
" My only boy ! " gasped on his tongue : 

He could not aim ! 
" Ha ! " cried the tyrant, " doth he quaii ? 
He shakes ! His haughty brow is pale ! " 
" Shoot ! " cried a low voice ; " canst thou faii 

Shoot, in Heaven's name ! " 

VI. 

Again the drooping shaft he took — - 
Cast to the heaven one burning look, — - 

Of all doubts reft : 
" Be firm, my boy ! " was all he said : 
He drew^ the bow — the arrow fled — ■ 
The apple left the stripling's head — 

" 'T is cleft ! 't is cleft ! " 
And cleft it was, — and Tell was free. 

VII. 

Quick the brave boy w T as at his knee, 

With flushing cheek ; 
But ere the sire his child embraced, 
The baffled Austrian cried in haste, 
" An arrow in thy belt is placed, — - 

What means it ? speak ! " 



156 THE FIFTH READER. 

" To smite thee, tyrant, to the heart ! 
Had Heaven so willed it that my dart 
Touched this, my boy ! " 

Wm. Bairn. 



ZXII. — THE UNKNOWN PAINTER. 

MUBILLO, the celebrated artist of Seville, often found 
upon the canvas of some one of his pupils unfin- 
ished sketches bearing the rich impress of genius. They 
were executed during the night, and he was utterly unable 
to conjecture the author. 

2. One morning the pupils had arrived at the studio 
before him, and were grouped before an easel, uttering ex- 
clamations of great surprise, when Murillo entered. His 
astonishment was equal to their own, on finding an unfin- 
ished head of the Virgin, of exquisite outline, with many 
touches of surpassing beauty. He appealed first to one and 
then another of the young gentlemen, to see if they could 
lay claim to it ; but they returned a sorrowful negative. 
" He who has left this tracery will one day be master of 
us all." 

3. " Sebastian," said he to a youthful slave that stood 
trembling by, " who occupies this studio at night ? " " No 
one but myself, senior." " Well, take your station here 
to-night, and if you do not inform me of the mysterious 
visitant to this room, thirty lashes shall be your reward 
on the morrow." He bowed in quiet submission, and re- 
tired. 

4. That night he threw his mattress before the easel, and 
slept soundly until the clock struck three. He then sprang 
from his couch and exclaimed, " Three hours are my own, 
the rest are my master's!" He seized a palette. and took 
his seat at the frame, to erase the work of the preceding 
night. With brush in hand, he paused before making the 
oblivious stroke. " I cannot, 0, I cannot erase it ! " said 
he ; " rather let me finish it I " 



THE UNKNOWN PAINTER. 157 

5. He went to work. A little coloring here, a touch 
there, a soft shade here ; and thus three hours rolled un- 
heeded by. A slight noise caused him to look up. Murillo 
with his pupils stood around ; the sunshine was peer- 
ing brightly through the casement, while yet the unextin- 
guished taper burned. 

6. Again he was a slave. His eyes fell beneath their 
eager gaze. " "Who is your master, Sebastian ? " " You, 
senior." " Your drawing-master, I mean ? " " You, senior." 
" I have never given you lessons." " No, but you gave 
them to these young gentlemen, and I heard them." " Yes, 
you have done better; you have profited by them. Does 
this boy deserve punishment or reward, my dear pupils ? " 
" Eeward, senior," was the quick response. " What shall 
it be?" 

7. One suggested a suit of clothes ; another, a sum of 
money ; but no chord was touched in the captive's bosom. 
Another said, " The master feels kindly to-day ; ask your 
freedom, Sebastian ! " He sank on his knees, and lifted his 
burning eyes to his master's face : " The freedom of my 
father!" 

8. Murillo folded him to his bosom : " Your pencil shows 
that you have talent ; your request, that you have a heart ; 
you are no longer my slave, but my son. Happy Murillo ! 
I have not only painted, but made a painter." 

9. There are still to be seen in classic Italy many 
beautiful specimens from the pencils of Murillo and Se- 
bastian. 



EXERCISE. 

1. Murillo found unfinished sketches upon the canvas. 

2. He was utterly unable to conjecture the author. 

3. The pupils had arrived at the studio before him. 

4. They were grouped before an easel. [Frame used by painters.] 

5. They found a picture of exquisite outline and surpassing heauty. 

6. You must inform me of the mysterious visitant to this room. 

7. He took his seat at the frame to erase his work. 

8. The sunshine was peering brightly through the casement. 



158 THE FIFTH READER. 

LXII1.— AN APRIL DAY. 



ALL day the low-hung clouds have dropped 
Their garnered fullness down ; 
All day that soft gray mist hath wrapped 
Hill, valley, grove, and town. 

ii. 

There has not been a sound to-day 

To break the calm of nature, 
Nor motion, I might almost say, 

Of life, or living creature \ 

in. 

Of waving bough, or warbling bird, 

Or cattle faintly lowing ; 
I could have half believed I heard 

The leaves and blossoms growing. 

IV. 

I stood to hear — I love it well, 

The rain's continuous sound : 
Small drops, but thick and fast they fell, 

Down straight into the ground. 



For leafy thickness is not yet 
Earth's naked breast to screen, 

Though every drippiug branch is set 
With shoots of tender green. 

VI. 

Sure, since I looked at early morn, 

Those honeysuckle buds 
Have swelled to double growth ; that thorn 

Hath put forth larger studs. 



AN ArKIL DAY. 1%) 

VII. 

That lilac's cleaving cones have burst, 

The milk-white flowers revealing ; 
Even now, upon my senses first 

Methinks their sweets are stealing. 

VIII. 

The very earth, the steamy air, 

Is all with fragrance rife ; 
And grace and beauty everywhere 

Are flushing into life. 

XI. 

Down, down they come, — those fruitful stores, 

Those earth-rejoicing drops ! 
A momentary deluge pours, 

Then thins, decreases, stops. 

x. 

And ere the dimples on the stream 

Have circled out of sight, 
Lo ! from the west a parting gleam 

Breaks forth of amber light. 

XI. 

But yet behold — abrupt and loud, 

Comes down the glittering rain ; 
The farewell of a passing cloud, 

The. fringes of her train. 

Blackwood's Magazine. 



EXERCISE. 

1. The clouds have dropped their garnered fullness down. [Gathered.] 

2. I stood to hear the rain's continuous sound. 

3. There is no leafy thickness to screen earth's breast. 

4. Every branch is set with shoots of tender green. 

5. The steamy air is all with fragrance rife. 

6. That lilac's cleaving cones have hurst. 

7. A momentary deluge pours, then thins, decreases, stops. 

8. A gleam of amber light breaks forth from the west, ere the dim- 
ples on the stream have circled out of sight. 



160 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

LXIV. — BOYS' COUNTRY AMUSEMENTS. 

AS boys must be amused, it is a benevolent provision 
which has decreed that it shall take so little to 
amuse them. All that a boy needs is room to play in and 
companions to play with, and he is happy as a king. I 
always pity a boy without a companion, or a boy in Lon- 
don, where there is so little room for playing ; and yet I 
have no doubt that even under these circumstances boys 
manage to enjoy themselves. 

2. But doubtless boyhood is in its glory in the country. 
The rural juvenile has an ever-changing round of congenial 
pleasures, which leave naught to be desired in his lot. 
First, in winter there is the ice, the broad rivers, the mud- 
dy ponds, the wide fens, converted by the magic of King 
Frost into a play-ground, over which we go skimming for 
miles as if on fairies' wings, spurning the base realities of 
solid earth, forgetful of all things but the keen air, and the 
sparkling frost, and the exhilarating motion. What in life 
could seem more Elysian to a boy ? 

3. But the clouds gather, the snow falls thickly on the 
ground ; old ladies lament, but the boy rejoices. Lavish 
Nature has sent him a new pleasure, — to dabble in the 
snow till he glows with heat, to build the snow-man higher, 
higher, and dance around him, oblivious of wet feet, scornful 
of overshoes. A snowball fight, mad charge, swift retreat, — 
what sport so full of mingled excitement and good-humor \ 

4. Perhaps we have talent enough to construct a sledge, 
and go spinning down the hillside at breathless speed, gen- 
erally overturning at the end of our journey, which is half 
the fun. Perhaps we have hare-and-hounds over the snow, 
tracing the. hare by his footsteps, and making the white 
woods ring with our shouts. At all events, we don't stay 
by the fire in this glorious weather, I promise you. 

5. By and by come spring and summer, and the boy 
tribe still is cared for by Nature. We are off to the woods ; 
we are the first to hail the primrose and the gentle violet ; 



BOYS' COUNTRY AMUSEMENTS. 



1G1 



we climb the trees, bursting forth into bloom, in search of 
birds'-nests. The year grows hot ; and in cool rivers, under 
shady willows, or in deep, black pools, or perhaps on far- 
stretching yellow sands, we lave our limbs, splashing, shout- 
ing, and singing as joyfully and fearlessly as if Adam were 
still in his garden, sinless and sorrowless. 




6. Then we mount the pony, and scamper through the 
leafy lanes, or we roll in the pleasant hay, or we gather 
daisy-chains, and pelt each other with buttercups. By and 
by, when autumn has begun with a fair show of kindness 
to do its ruthless work, we are off, basket in hand, to gather^ 
nuts and blackberries. 

7. And we dance among the fallen leaves, merrily 
thoughtless of the sober 'lesson they would teach us; and 
we pile them and the fir-cones into bonfires, and rejoice in 
the blaze and the cloud of smoke, and glory in having 
burned our fingers and made light of the pain ; and may- 



162 THE FIFTH READER- 

hap, if the cook be gracious, we roast potatoes in the 
embers, and imagine ourselves young Robinson Crusoes. 

8. Thus pleasure is added to pleasure, till a hard frost 
some night late in October reminds us that it is time to 
begin the round again. And at all times we have room to 
run and jump and tumble and howl to our heart's content, 
without fear of breaking anything, or frightening anybody, 
unless haply an aged donkey, browsing in the next field 
Is not the country boy's lot cast in pleasant places ? 

A. R. Hojn. 



LXV. — THE MOSS-BOSK 

i. 

11 HE Angel of the Flowers one day 
Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay, - — 
That spirit to whose charge is given 
To bathe young buds in dews from heaven. 
Awaking from his light repose, 
The Angel whispered to the Rose : — 

ii. 
" fondest object of my care, 
Still fairest found where all are fair, 
For the sweet shade thou hast given me, 
Ask what thou wilt, 't is granted thee." 

in. 
Then said the Rose, with deepening glow, 
" On me another grace bestow." 
The spirit paused in silent thought, — 
What grace was there that flower had not 1 

IV. 

5 T was but a moment, — o'er the Rose 
A veil of moss the Angel throws ; 
And, robed in nature's simplest weed, 
Could there a flower that Rose exceed ? 

Krummacker. 



EARNING ENJOYMENT. 163 

LXVL- EARNING ENJOYMENT. 

OXE day I heard a boy say to his younger brother, who 
was crying lustily, " Now, Tom, I know you don't 
want anything, but what do you think you want ? " That 
boy was a philosopher, and went to the root of the matter. 
It is not what we really want, but what we think we want, 
that frets most of us. If you only could snatch to-day's 
happiness, instead of wondering if you could not get a 
great deal more for that to-morrow which may never come 
to you, would n't it be wiser ? 

2. The other day I went off into the woods with a dear 
little girl who is much more of a poetess than a philoso- 
pher. Not a patch of soft green moss, not the tiniest 
bud of a wild-flower, or flitting butterfly, or bird, or tree- 
shadow on the smooth clear lake, escaped her bright, glad 
eyes. 

3. The first flower she found enraptured her, and she 
climbed a steep rock for the second, and so on, till her tiny 
hands were full. Just then she found quite a bunch of 
bright pink blossoms, and I was so glad for her; when 
suddenly she burst into such a grieved, piteous cry, " 
dear ! dear ! what shall I do ? I can't hold them all." 

4. If we would only think of that ! That we " can't 
hold them all " ; that in order to grasp that which is the 
moment's wish, we must let something else drop that we 
prize, — something that we can never retrace our steps to 
reclaim, — it may be health, or character, or life itself, for 
that which is so perishable, so unsatisfying, so harmful, 
that we can never cease wondering how the glamour of 
it could have so dazzled our mental and moral vision. 

5. The little child I speak of, who clambered up the rock 
to secure that one flower, was happier in its possession than 
with myriads that she afterwards found lying at her very 
feet. She had earned that one ! She had encountered a 
fierce brier-bush ; she had got her hands scratched in the 
conflict ; she had tickled her little nose with a defiant twig ; 



164 THE FIFTH READER. 

she had tangled her curls ; she had scraped her little fat 
knee till it was red, — and got the flower I All herself too 
6. I could n't elaborate a better moral, if I preached an 
hour. We don't value happiness in heaps. It is the one 
little sweet blossom that we earn by faithful work, which 
we love best after all. Is n't it so ? 

Fanny Fern. 



LXVIL— WARREN'S ADDRESS. 

AT THE BATTLE OF -BUNKER HILL. 
I. 

STAND ! the ground 's your own, my braves 
Will ye give it up to slaves ] 
Will ye look for greener graves ] 

Hope ye mercy still % 

What 's the mercy despots feel 1 ? 

Hear it in that battle peal ! 

Read it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it — ye who will. 

ii. 
Fear ye foes who kill for hire ? 
Will ye to your homes retire 1 
Look behind you ! they 're afire ! 

And, before you, see 
Who have done it ! — From the vale 
On they come ! — and will ye quail 1 — 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 

in. 
In the God of battles trust ! 
Die we may — and die we must : 
But, where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well, 
As where heaven its dews shall shed. 
On the martyred patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raise their head, 

Of his Heeds to tellt 



THE HEROINE OF EDINBURGH. 165 

LXVIII — THE HEROINE OF EDINBURGH. 

SEVENTEEN hundred and forty-five! How many 
associations are linked in a Scottish mind with these 
magic numbers ! More than a hundred years have passed 
since then, yet the very name of the date brings a dark 
shadow on many a brow, and a sigh from many a heart. 
The city of Edinburgh was besieged, and after a short strug- 
gle yielded to the assailing party. The Jacobite flag waved 
from its walls, and with the exception of the Castle, fell 
easily (perhaps willingly) into the hands of the besiegers. 

2. A court was held at Holyrood House, a council of 
war convened, and a plan for surprising the garrison in the 
Castle (still bravely defended by General Guest) resolved 
upon. The execution of this perilous attempt was confided 
to a young man in the Pretender's * ranks named John 
McKinnon, a most expert climber. 

3. He engaged to scale the Castle Hill during the night, 
drawing up with him a rope to be fastened to an iron ring 
which he affirmed was to be found at the foot of the lofty 
Castle wall, overgrown with lichen, and so concealed from 
view. By means of this rope the Pretender's troops were 
to be guided up the almost perpendicular rock, put the 
garrison to the sword, and obtain possession of the " Citadel 
of the North." 

4. John McKinnon had a brother, to whom he wished 
to confide his intended exploit, and communicated all these 
particulars to him that same night, in a field near the city. 
He knew not that he was overheard by a young girl on the 
other side of the hedge, but not a word was lost. Sisterly 
love had sharpened the ear of the Scottish maiden, whose 
only brother was a sergeant in the garrison troops. She 
heard that the attempt to climb and fix the rope would be 
made on the following night, and that on the succeeding 
one his comrades would begin their perilous ascent. 

* Charles Edward, grandson of James II., was called the Pretender, on 
account of his claiming the British throne. 



L QQ the fifth header. 

5. What was Jeanie to do, — how save her brother ? 
Any intercourse between the besiegers and the besieged 
was impossible. A signal could not be made, and if she 
disclosed her secret information her own life would be 
forfeited. After a short deliberation, she resolved to save 
her brother or perish in the attempt. If man could tempt 
that hideous ascent for love of gain, might not woman for 
sisterly affection ? 

6. Darkness was around her as she crept to the foot of 
the hill, darkness befriended her as she clung to its steep 
side, and eagerly availed herself of each crevice for her 
naked foot, and each stunted plant for her active hand. 
At every pause in her toilsome and perilous employment 
she whispered, " My brother, my brother " ; nor did she 
relax her exertions until, by a desperate effort, she planted 
her foot on a ledge of rock just broad enough to afford her 
a resting-place. 

7. It has been said that it " would require a long line 
of thought to fathom the depths of piety in a Scottish 
peasant's heart." If this be true of a nation, how much 
more of an individual like her before us ! How fervent 
her thanksgiving for having reached a spot of comparative 
safety ! How earnest her prayers for complete success ! 
How ardent her hope of saving one so dear ! But how 
long might she venture to pause here ? 

8. The cathedral bell tolled one. The sentries on the 
Castle were changed, the password given, and all was still 
again. Might she now proceed? At this moment the 
moon peeped faintly from behind the shadow of a friendly 
cloud, — a light breeze moved her dress. A soldier on the 
wall started forward and discharged his musket towards 
the spot. No cry escaped her, — pale, but still, she stood 
as if rooted to the ground. The smoke cleared away,— 
one start would have been fatal ; but the man moved on, 
and in reply to his comrade said, " Only a sea-mew." 

9. Men applaud the bravery of him who rushes on the 
cannon's mouth and dies on the battle-field; they honor 



THE HEROINE OF EDINBURGH. 16? 

him who braves the perils of a naval life and boards the 
enemy, sword in hand. But consider the calm, enduring 
courage of this young maiden, — see her risking a fearful 
death with no eye to applaud, no tongue to encourage, and 
none to tell him for whom she thus risked her life what 
his loving sister had done for his sake ! 

10. The moon shone brightly forth, — to move now was 
certain discovery. Here, then, midway up that fearful 
precipice, must she remain till the darkness befriended her 
once more ! All night she stood ; cold winds were gather- 
ing round her, but could not chill the warmth of her loving 
heart ; misty clouds folded her in their clammy vapor, she 
heeded them not. The morning dew, the midday sun, the 
evening shade passed away, — darkness, welcome darkness 
urged her on. 

11. Her toilsome ascent was resumed, and ere the cathe- 
dral clock struck one again, she had reached the parapet, 
been assisted over by the sentinel, told her tale to the 
Governor, and received her astonished brother's blessing ! 

12. The rest is soon told. McKinnon succeeded, a few 
hours later, in reaching the wall, was seized, and shot on 
the parapet. Jeanie remained in the Castle with the Gov- 
ernor's lady, and bore her many honors meekly. 



EXERCISE. 

1. The city was besieged, and after a short struggle yielded to the 
assailing party. 

2. A plan for surprising the garrison in the Castle was resolved 
upon. 

3. The execution of this perilous attempt was confided to a young 
man. 

4. He engaged to scale the Castle Hill during the night. 

5. He communicated these particulars to his brother. 

6. Jeanie heard that the attempt to climb would be made the fol- 
lowing night. 

7. If she disclosed the secret, her own life would be forfeited 
[Lost as punishment.] 

8. After deliberation she resolved to save her brother or perish. 



168 THE FIFTH READER 



LXIX. — THE OLD TEAR AND THE NEW 

i. 

RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 
The flying cloud, the frosty light ; 
The year is dying in the night ; 
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

ii. 
Ring out the old, ring in the ne~w, 

Ring, happy bells, across the snow ; 

The year is going, let him go ; 
Ring out the false, ring in the true. 

in. 
Ring out the grief that saps the mind 

For those that here we see no more ; 

Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 
Ring in redress to all mankind. 

IV. 

Ring out a slowly dying cause, 

And ancient forms of party strife ; 
Ring in the nobler modes of life, 

And sweeter manners, purer laws. 

v. 
Ring out false pride in place and blood, 

The civic slander and the spite ; 

Ring in the love of truth and right, 
Ring in the common love of good. 

VI. 

Ring in the valiant and the free, 

The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
Ring out the darkness of the land ; 

Ring in the Christ that is to be. 

Tennyson 



HOW THE GIANT WAS CAUGHT AND SET TO WORK. 169 

LXX. — HOW THE GIANT WAS CAUGHT AND 
SET TO WORK. 

MORE than twenty-live hundred years ago an old 
Greek philosopher noticed that amber, when 
rubbed, had a strange power of attracting to itself light 
bodies, such as straws, hairs, and small sticks. The phi- 
losopher wondered and thought about this, and made men- 
tion of it in his writings, but he died without having found 
out any good reason for it. At intervals of several hundred 
years two or three other of the wise men of ancient times 
spoke of this singular power of amber. They made men- 
tion, too, of a queer fish that gave shocks to any animal 
that came in contact with it. 

2. They also noticed — just what you must have seen 
many times — that when they took off their clothes on a 
cold night they heard a crackling noise, and saw sparks of 
light ; and that their hair, on being combed, crackled and 
sparkled ; and that a cat's back, when rubbed the wrong way, 
gave out sparks. For more than two thousand years gen- 
eration after generation of men and women lived, noticed 
these queer things, and, like the old Greek, died without 
having found out any reason for them. 

3. But about the year sixteen hundred, an Englishman, 
named Dr. Gilbert, set to work trying experiments, and he 
found out that not only amber, but many other things, had, 
wdien rubbed, this power of attraction. Slowly and pa- 
tiently he worked. When people want to find out a scien- 
tific truth they do not do it by a lucky guess or a series of 
lucky guesses. Sometimes it takes a whole lifetime of ex- 
periment and observation to arrive at and establish one 
little fact in science. 

4. Many learned men became interested in the dis- 
coveries of Dr. Gilbert ; there was some strange power of 
attraction hidden in these bodies which they could not 
account for or understand. They made machines to try 
experiments ; they spent their time and money and brains 



170 THE FIFTH READER. 

in finding out the truth, and they found out a great deal 
of truth about this wonderful influence which they called 
electricity. 

5. Some of the wise men, too, had their suspicions that 
electricity was the same as lightning, — the sparkle corre- 
sponding to the flash, the crackling noise to the thunder, — 
but they had no way to prove their suspicions to be true : 
they had no way of going up to the clouds to examine 
the lightning, and they had no way to bring it down to 
earth. 

6. But Benjamin Franklin got a notion into his wise 
head that if he could get on top of a high steeple during a 
thunder-storm, he could get enough lightning to experiment 
with. There were no high steeples in Philadelphia at that 
time, so he thought of another way. He made a kite, the 
most famous kite that ever went sailing up from this wide 
world of ours. 

7. Tt was a small cross-shaped kite, just like any boy's 
kite, only it was covered with thin silk instead of paper, — 
for the rain would have spoiled paper, — and it had some 
sharp, metallic points sticking out from the corners. It 
was a gallant little messenger ; it rode fearlessly on the 
wings of the wind away up into the sky ; it entered bravely 
at the portals of a dark and threatening cloud. 

8. "Good-morning, thunder and liiditnino- !" called out 
the little messenger ; " my master sent me to inquire if 
you are any relation to the snaps and sparkles he makes in 
his electrical machine. If you are, just send a shock down 
this tow-string ; my master has hold of the other end, and 
he will understand what you mean in a minute." 

9. " Mind your own business ! " returned thunder and 
lightning with a terrible flash and groan. " If your master 
wants to know about my family relations, he must find out 
in some other way ; that tow-string will carry no message 
of mine." 

10. At this tow-string began to bristle up and look ex- 
cited, and the rain-water, that had been keeping house in 



HOW THE GIANT WAS CAUGHT AND SET TO WORK. 171 

the next door cloud, and was just starting earthward, 
flashed out angrily: — 

"Thunder and lightning, you are too proud to own your 
poor relations! Ever since the world was made, you have 
been careering through the heavens with your great flash- 
ings and groanings, pretending you did not have anything 
to do on the earth except to frighten men to death and 
tumble down their houses. But I'll tell of you; I'll soon 
let that wise man know that you are not a terrible and 
mysterious heavenly being, but a very common resident of 
earth, just as I am. I've been aching to tell about you for 
thousands of years, but I Ye never found any one on earth 
wise enough to understand my talk." 

11. Thunder and lightning roared and flashed in great 
fury when it heard this, but rain-water slid down the tow- 
string with great glee, and with a series of jerks and shocks 
soon informed the wise doctor all he wanted to know about 
the distinguished relations of electricity. 

12. That must have been a sad day for the old giant that 
had ranged the heavens and terrified the earth since the 
creation ; he must have felt humbled when he had to come 
down the string and get into a bottle and perform experi- 
ments for the doctor. 

13. Ah, but it was a great day for the world ! The wise 
doctor rejoiced, and all the wise men all over the world 
were glad at the new-s when they heard it. 

14. So the people lost their terror of this giant, and he 
did not dare to go zigzagging around through the air, knock- 
ing down people's houses, for the people put sharp-pointed 
rods of iron on their dwellings, and the great giant did not 
dare to touch a house thus protected, because the sharp sen- 
tinel was ever on the lookout. 

15. " Don't touch my house ! This way, my friend. I '11 
take you safe to a good place." And the first thing the 
old giant knew he was whisked underground, tight in 
prison, where he could do no mischief. 

16. But men were not content to keep the old fellow 



172 ™e fifth reader. 

out of mischief; they longed to set him to work. The 
chemists found out how to make him useful in their 
laboratories. The doctors set him to healing their pa- 
tients, and the silversmiths made him plate their wares. 
But still some wise men were sure that he was able 
to do many more useful things. They were certain that, 
if they could only invent the right sort of a road and the 
right sort of a harness, they could make the great giant 
travel from place to place carrying the news. 

17. u Ah," said the wise men, "he is just the one to 
carry the news ; he is so strong, so tireless, so swift, so 
secret, — just the one, if we can only make him do it." 

18. " So they worried their wise heads night and day 
for many a year ; they devised plans and invented ma- 
chines. But the old giant laughed their plans to scorn ; he 
broke in pieces their machines, he shocked and stunned the 
wise heads themselves. He pranced away from them and 
danced in the air. 

19. It happened, a quarter of a century ago, that a small 
thought entered into a wise man's head, and dwelt there 
until it worked itself out into life and action in the shape 
of Morse's Telegraph. 

20. And the old giant knew, as soon as he saw this 
machine, that he was caught and harnessed and must 
go to work. He knew he was mastered, so he never 
winced or flinched the least bit ; he settled himself in 
the traces ; the harness fitted so well he could not keep 
from working in it. The road suited his tastes far better 
than the old ragged, zigzag route he used to engineer 
out for himself. 

21. All over the round world to-day the track of the 
giant is gleaming in crystal and steel ; from north to south, 
from east to west, in the heavens above, in the earth be- 
neath, and in the waters under the earth, he ceases not to 
toil for man. Silent, omnipresent, sleepless, and tireless, 
this grand ally of civilization, with his heart of fire and 
his sinews of steel, keeps the deep pulses of humanity 



THE LARK AND THE NIGHTINGALE. 173 

throbbing with the same beat, rejoicing for the same joy, 
mourning for the same sorrow. 

22. So the giant Electricity works joyfully in the service 
of mankind; he works according to his ow T n nature; he 
obeys the laws that were set for him from the creation of 
the world. When the mind of a man conquered these 
laws, it conquered him. 

23 The earth is a great storehouse of hidden forces ; the 
strong men and wise men of the future shall draw the 
bolts and turn the rusted keys, and bring forth its treasures 
to enrich and exalt the whole human race. Boys and girls, 
knowledge and thought are the keys ! Grasp them surely, 
use them skilfully, enter upon the heritage secured to you 
from the beginning of time. 

T. S. Arthur. 



LXXL- -THE LARK AND THE NIGHTINGALE. 

i. 

T M IS sweet to hear the merry lark, 

1 That bids a blithe good morrow ; 
But sweeter to hark in the twinkling dark. 

To the soothing song of sorrow. 
nightingale ! What doth she ail % 

And is she sad or jolly 1 
For ne'er on earth was sound of mirth 

So like to melancholy." 



The merry lark, he soars on high, 

No worldly thought o'ertakes him ; 
He sings aloud to the clear blue sky, 

And the daylight that awakes him. 
As sweet a lay, as loud, as gay, 

The nightingale is trilling ; 
With feeling bliss, no less than his, 

Her little heart is thrilling. 



174 THE FIFTH READER 

in. 
Yet, ever and anon, a sigh, 

Peers through her lavish mirth ; 
For the lark's bold song is of the sky, 

And hers is of the earth. 
By night and day she tunes her lay, 

To drive away all sorrow ; 
For bliss, alas ! to-night must pass, 

And woe may come to-morrow. 

Hartley Coleridge. 



LXXIL — THE QUARREL OF SQUIRE BULL 
AND HIS SON JONATHAN. 

JOHN BULL was a choleric old fellow, who held a 
good manor in the middle of a great mill-pond, and 
which, by reason of its being quite surrounded by water, 
was generally called "Bullock Island." Bull was an in- 
genious man, an exceedingly good blacksmith, a dexter- 
ous cutler, and a notable weaver besides. He was, in 
fact, a sort of Jack-at-all-trades, and good at each. 

2. In addition to these, he was a hearty fellow, a jolly 
companion, and passably honest, as the times go. But 
what tarnished all these qualities, was an exceedingly 
quarrelsome, overbearing disposition, which was always 
getting him into some scrape or other. The truth is, he 
never heard of a quarrel going on among his neighbors, 
but his fingers itched to take a part in it; so that he was 
hardly ever seen without an arm in a sling or a bruised 
eye. 

3. Such was Squire Bull, as he was commonly called by 
the country people, his neighbors, — one of those odd, 
testy, grumbling, boasting old codgers, that never get 
credit for what they are, because they are always pre- 
tending to be what they are not. The squire was as tight 



QCTARREL OF SQUIRE BULL AND JONATHAN 175 

a hand to deal with in doors as out ; sometimes treating 
his family as if they were not the same flesh and blood, 
when they happened to differ with him in certain mat- 
ters. 

4. One day he got into a dispute with his youngest son, 
Jonathan, who was familiarly called Brother Jonathan, 
whether churches ought to be called churches or meeting- 
houses ; and whether steeples were not an abomination. 
The squire, either having the worst of the argument, or 
being naturally impatient of contradiction, — I can't tell 
which, — fell into a great passion, and declared he would 
drive such notions out of the boy's head. 

5. So he went to some of his doctors, and got them 
to draw up a prescription, made up of thirty-nine differ- 
ent articles, many of them bitter enough to some palates. 
This he tried to make Jonathan swallow ; and, finding 
he made wry faces, and would not do it, fell upon him 
and beat him soundly. After this, he made the house so 
disagreeable to him, that Jonathan, though as hard as 
a pine knot, and as tough as leather, could bear it no 
longer. 

6. Taking his gun and his ax, he put himself into a 
boat and paddled over the mill-pond to some new lands ; 
to which the squire pretended to have some sort of claim. 
Jonathan intended to settle the lands, and build a meeting- 
house without a steeple, as soon as he grew rich enough. 
When he got over, he found that the land was quite in 
a state of nature, covered with wood, and inhabited only 
by wild beasts. 

7. But, being a lad of spirit, he took his ax on one 
shoulder and his gun on the other, marched into the thick- 
est of the wood, and, clearing a place, built a log hut. Pur- 
suing his labors, and handling his ax like a notable wood- 
man, he in a few years cleared the land, which he laid out 
into thirteen good farms ; and, building himself a large 
house, which he partly finished, began to be quite snug 
and comfortable, 



176 THE FIFTH READER. 

8. But Squire Bull, who was getting old and stingy, and, 
besides, was in great want of money, on account of his hav- 
ing lately been made to pay heavy damages for assaulting 
his neighbors and breaking their heads, — the squire, I say, 
finding Jonathan was getting well-to-do in the world, be- 
gan to be very much troubled about his welfare ; so he 
demanded that Jonathan should pay him a good rent for 
the land which he had cleared and made good for some- 
thing. 

9. He made up I know not what claim against him, and 
under different pretences managed to pocket all Jonathan's 
honest gains. In fact, the poor lad had not a shilling left 
for holiday occasions ; and, had it not been for the filial 
respect he felt for the old man, he would certainly have 
refused to submit to such impositions. But for all this, 
in a little time Jonathan grew up to be very large of 
his age, and became a tall, stout, double-jointed, broad- 
footed cub of a fellow, awkward in his gait and simple 
in his appearance, but having a lively, shrewd look, and 
giving the promise of great strength when he should get 
his growth. 

10. He was rather an odd-looking chap, in truth, and 
had many queer ways ; but everybody who had seen John 
Bull saw a great likeness between them, and declared he 
was John's own boy, a true chip of the old block. Like 
the old squire, he was apt to be blustering and saucy, but, 
in the main, was a peaceable sort of careless fellow, that 
would quarrel with nobody if you only let him alone. He 
used to dress in homespun trousers, and always wore a 
linsey-woolsey coat, the sleeves of which were so short 
that his hand and wrist came out beyond them, looking 
like a shoulder of mutton ; all of which was in conse- 
quence of his growing so fast that he outgrew his clothes. 

11. While Jonathan was coming up in this way, Bull 
kept on picking his pockets of every penny put into them ; 
till at last, one day when the squire was even more than 
usually pressing in his demands, which he accompanied 



SO WORK THE HARDEST 'WORK 177 

with threats, Jonathan started up in a passion, and threw 
the teakettle at the old man's head. 

12. The choleric^ Bull was hereupon exceedingly enraged, 
and, after calling the poor lad an undutiful, ungrateful, 
rebellious rascal, seized him by the collar, and forthwith 
a furious scuffle ensued. This lasted a long time ; for the 
squire, though in years, was a capital boxer. At last, 
however, Jonathan got him under, and before he would 
let him up, made him sign a paper giving up all claim 
to the farms, and acknowledging the fee simple to be iu 
Jonathan forever. Jm Km Paulding. 



LXXIII.— NO WORK THE HARDEST WORK 



HO ! ye who at the anvil toil, 
And strike the sounding blow, 
Where from the burning iron's breast 

The sparks fly to and fro, 
While answering to the hammer's ring, 

And fire's intenser glow, — 
0, while ye feel *t is hard to toil 

And sweat the long day through, 
Eemember it is harder still 

To have no work to do. 

ii. 
Ho ! ye who till the stubborn soil, 

Whose hard hands guide the plow ; 
W T ho bend beneath the summer sun 

With burning cheek and brow, — 
Ye deem the curse still clings to eartt 

From olden time till now, 
But while ye feel 't is hard to toil 

And labor all day through. 
Remember it is harder still 

To have no work to do. 



178 THE FIFTH KEADER. 

ill. 
Ho ! ye who plough the sea's blue field, 

Who ride the restless wave ; 
Beneath whose gallant vessel's keel 

There lies a yawning grave ; 
Around whose bark the wintry winds 

Like fiends of fury rave, — 
0, while ye feel 't is hard to toil 

And labor long hours through, 
Remember it is harder still 

To have no work to do. 

IV. 

Ho ! all who labor, all who strive, 

Ye wield a lofty power ; 
Do with your might, do with your strength. 

Fill every golden hour ! 
The glorious privilege to do 

Is man's most noble dower. 
0, to your birthright and yourselves, 

To your own souls, be true ! — 
A weary, wretched life is theirs 

Who have no work to do. 

G. F. Ornc. 



LXXI V. — INTELLIGENCE OF THE ELEPHANT 

TOU know how a dog will carry home a basket or a 
bundle, and go trotting along without anybody to 
watch him. It is just so with the elephant. When he has 
been trained to do a certain work, he will keep at it by 
himself, and will seem to take as much interest in it, and 
do it as intelligently, as any man would do. 

2. For instance, when elephants are taught to pile logs 
in a timber-yard, in the East Indies, they will go on piling 
without any command from their masters; and they are 
taught, when the pile grows high, to lean two logs against 
it, and roll the remaining logs to the top. I remember a 
story told by Sir James Tennent which shows this inde- 
pendence of action in the elephant 



INTELLIGENCE OF THE ELEPHANT. 179 

3. " One evening," lie says, " whilst riding in the vicinity 
of Kandy, in Ceylon, my horse evinced some excitement at 
a noise which approached us in the thick jangle, and which 
consisted of a repetition of the ejaculation urmph I urmph ! 
in a hoarse and dissatisfied tone. A turn in the forest ex- 
plained the mystery, by bringing me face to face with a 
tame elephant, unaccompanied by any attendant. 

4. " He was laboring painfully to carry a heavy beam of 
timber, which he balanced across his tusks, but, the path- 
way being narrow, he was forced to bend his head to one 
side to permit it to pass endways ; and the exertion and 
inconvenience combined led him to utter the dissatisfied 
sounds which disturbed the composure of my horse. 

5. " On seeing us halt, the elephant raised his head, re- 
connoitered us for a moment, then flung down the timber 
and forced himself backwards among the brushwood, so as 
to leave a passage, of which he expected us to avail our- 
selves. My horse still hesitated. The elephant observed 
it, and impatiently thrust himself still deeper into the 
jungle, repeating his cry of urmph ! but in a voice evidently 
meant to encourage us to come on. 

6. " Still the horse trembled ; and, anxious to observe the 
instinct of the two sagacious creatures, I forbore any inter- 
ference. Again the elephant wedged himself farther in 
amongst the trees, and waited impatiently for us to pass 
him; and after the horse had done so tremblingly and 
timidly, I saw the wise creature stoop and take up his 
heavy burden, trim and balance it on his tusks, and re- 
sume his work, hoarsely snorting, as before." 

7. Now almost any trained animal, if left alone to decide 
for himself, in such a case, would have put down his load, 
if he could, and walked away. But how like a faithful 
and industrious man this elephant acted ! As there was 
no room to pass, he made way, waited for the horse, 
encouraged him to come on, and then, when he had passed, 
took up Ms load again and went along. 

T. W« Higgiiison. 



180 THE FIFTH READER. 

LXXV. — BLUEBEARD. 

i. 

CENTURIES since there flourished a man, — 
A cruel old Tartar as rich as the Khan, — 
Whose castle was built on a splendid plan, 

With gardens and groves and plantations ; 
But his shaggy beard was as blue as the sky, 
And he lived alone, for his neighbors were shy, 
And had heard hard stories, by the by, 
About his domestic relations. 

ii. 
Just on the opposite side of the plain 
A widow abode with her daughters twain ; 
And one of them — neither cross nor vain — 

Was a beautiful little treasure ; 
So he sent them an invitation to tea, 
And, having a natural wish to see 
His wonderful castle and gardens, all three 

Said they 'd do themselves the pleasure. 

in. 
As soon as there happened a pleasant day,. 
They dressed themselves in a sumptuous way, 
And rode to the castle as proud and gay 

As silks and jewels could make them ; 
And they were received in the finest style, 
And saw everything that was worth their while, 
In the halls of Bluebeard's grand old pile, 

Where he was so kind as to take them. 

IV. 

The ladies were all enchanted quite, 
For they found old Bluebeard so polite 
That they did not suffer at all from fright, 

And frequently called thereafter ; 
Then he offered to marry the younger one, 
And as she was willing the thing was done, 
And celebrated by all the ton 

With feasting and with laughter. 



BLUEBEARD. 181 

v. 
As kind a husband as ever was seen 
Was Bluebeard then for a month, I ween ; 
And she was as proud as any queen, 

And as happy as she could be, too ; 
But her husband called her to him one day, 
And said, "My dear, I am going away; 
It will not be long that I shall stay ; 

There is business for me to see to. 

VI. 

" The keys of my castle I leave with you ; 

But if you value my love, be true, 

And forbear to enter the Chamber of Blue ! 

Farewell, Fatima ! Eemember ! " 
Fatima promised him ; then she ran 
To visit the rooms with her sister Ann ; 
But when she had finished the tour, she began 

To think about the Blue Chamber. 

VII. 

Well, the woman was curiously inclined, 
So she left her sister and prudence behind 
(With a little excuse), and started to find 

The mystery forbidden. 
She paused at the door ; — all was still as night ! 
She opened it ; then through the dim blue light 
There blistered her vision the horrible sight 

That was in that chamber hidden. 

VIII. 

The room was gloomy and damp and wide, 
And the floor was red with the bloody tide 
From headless women, laid side by side, 

The wives of her lord and master ! 
Frightened and fainting she dropped the key, 
But seized it and lifted it quickly ; then she 
Hurried as swiftly as she could flee 

From the scene of the disaster. 

IX. 

She tried to forget the terrible dead, 

But shrieked when she saw that the key was red, 

And sickened and shook with an awful dread 



182 THE FIFTH READER. 

When she heard Bluebeard was coming. 
He did not appear to notice her pain ; 
But he took his keys, and, seeing the stain, 
He stopped in the middle of the refrain 

That he had been quietly humming. 

x. 

" Mighty well, madam ! " said he, — " mighty well ! 

What does this little blood-stain tell 1 

You 've broken your promise ; prepare to dwell 

With the wives I 've had before you ! 
You 've broken your promise, and you shall die." 
Then Fatima, supposing her death was nigh, 
Fell on her knees and began to cry, 

" Have mercy, I implore you I " 

XI. 

" No ! " shouted Bluebeard, drawing his sword ; 
" You shall die this very moment,'' he roared. 
" Grant me time to prepare to meet my Lord," 

The terrified woman entreated. 
" Only ten minutes," he roared again ; 
And, holding his watch by its great gold chain, 
He marked on the dial the fatal ten, 

And retired till they were completed. 

XII. 

" Sister, sister, fly up to the tower ! 

Look for release from this murderer's power ! 

Our brothers should be here this very hour ; — 

Speak ! Does there come assistance 1 " 
" No ; I see nothing but sheep on the hill." 
" Look again, sister ! " "I 'm looking still, 
But naught can I see whether good or ill, 

Save a flurry of dust in the distance." 

XIII. 

" Time 's up ! " shouted Bluebeard, out from his room \ 
ht This moment shall witness your terrible doom, 
And give you a dwelling within the room 

Whose secrets you have invaded." 
u Comes there no help for my terrible need?" 



BLUEBEARD. 183 

"There are horsemen twain riding hither with speed." 
•' 0, tell them to ride very fast indeed, 
Or I must meet death unaided ! " 

XIV. 

" Time 's fully up ! Xow have done with your prayer," 
Shouted Bluebeard, swinging his sword on the stair ; 
Then he entered, and, grasping her beautiful hair, 

Swung his glittering weapon around him ; 
But a loud knock rang at the castle gate, 
And Fatima was saved from her horrible fate, 
For, shocked with surprise, he paused too late ; 

And then the two soldiers found him. 

xv. 
They were her brothers, and, quick as they knew 
What the fiend was doing, their swords they drew, 
And attacked him fiercely, and ran him through, 

So that soon he was mortally wounded. 
With a wild remorse was his conscience filled 
When he thought of the hapless wives he had killed ; 
But quickly the last of his blood was spilled, 

And his dying groan was sounded. 

XVI. 

'T was a private funeral Bluebeard had ; 

For the people knew he was very bad, 

And, though they said nothing, they all were glad 

For the fall of the evil-doer • 
But Fatima first ordered some graves to be made, 
And there the unfortunate ladies were laid, 
And after some painful months, with the aid 

Of her friends, her spirits came to her. 

XVII. 

Then she cheered the hearts of the suffering poor, 
And an acre of land around each door, 
And a cow, and a couple of sheep, or more, 

To her tenantry she granted. 
So all of them had enough to eat, 
And their love for her was so complete 
They would kiss the dust from her little feet, 

Or do anything she wanted. j. q. Holla vd 



184 THE FIFTH READER. 

LXXVI. — ANDROCLES AND THE LION. 

THERE was a certain slave named Androcles,* who 
was so ill-treated by his master that his life became 
insupportable. Finding no remedy for what he suffered, 
he at length said to himself : " It is better to die than 
to continue to live in such hardships and misery as I 
am obliged to suffer. I am determined, therefore, to run 
away from my master. If I am taken again, I know that 
I shall be punished with a cruel death ; but it is better to 
die at once than to live in misery. If I escape I must- 
betake myself to deserts and woods inhabited only by wild 
beasts ; but they cannot treat me more cruelly than I have 
been treated by my fellow-creatures ; therefore, I will 
rather trust myself with them than continue to be a 
miserable slave." 

2. Having formed this resolution, he took an opportu- 
nity of leaving his master's house, and hid himself in a 
thick forest at some miles' distance from the city. But 
here the unhappy man found that he had only escaped 
from one sort of misery to experience another. He wan- 
dered about all day through a vast and trackless wood, 
where his flesh was incessantly torn by thorns and bram- 
bles. He grew hungry, but could find no food in his 
dreary solitude. At length, he was ready to die with 
fatigue, and lay down in despair in a large cavern which 
he accidentally discovered. 

3. He had not lain long quiet in the cavern, before he 
heard a dreadful noise, which seemed to be the roar of 
some wild beast, and alarmed him very much. He started 
up, with a design to escape, and had already reached the 
mouth of the cave, Avhen he saw coming towards him a. 
lion of prodigious size, who prevented any possibility of 
retreat. The terrified man now believed his destruction to 
be inevitable ; but to his great astonishment, the beast 
advanced towards him with a gentle pace, without any 

* Pronounced An'dro-cleez. 



ANDROCLES AND THE LION. 185 

mark of enmity or rage, and uttered a mournful sound, as 
though demanding the assistance of the man. 

4. Androcles, who was naturally brave, acquired courage 
from this circumstance, to examine the immense creature. 
He saw as the lion approached him, that he seemed to limp 
upon one of his legs, and that the foot was extremely 
swelled, as though it had been wounded. Acquiring still 
more fortitude from the gentle demeanor of the beast, he 
advanced up to him, and took hold of the wounded paw, 
as a surgeon would examine the hand of a patient. He 
then perceived that a thorn of uncommon size had pene- 
trated the ball of the foot, and was the occasion of the 
swelling and lameness which he had noticed. 

5. Androcles found that the beast, far from resenting his 
familiarity, received it with the utmost gentleness, and 
seemed by his actions to invite him to proceed. He there- 
fore extracted the thorn, and, pressing the swelling, dis- 
charged a considerable quantity of matter, which had been 
the cause of so much pain and uneasiness. 

6. As soon as the beast felt himself relieved, he began 
to testify his joy and gratitude by every expression within 
his power. He jumped about like a playful spaniel, 
wagged his enormous tail, and licked the feet and hands 
of his physician. Nor was he contented with these demon- 
strations of kindness. From this moment Androcles be- 
came his guest ; nor did the lion ever sally forth in quest 
of prey without bringing home the produce of his chase, 
and sharing it with his friend. 

7. Tn this savage state of hospitality did the man con- 
tinue to live during several months. At length, wandering 
unguardedly through the woods, he met with a company 
of soldiers sent out to apprehend him, and was taken pris- 
oner, and conducted back to his master. 

8. The laws of that country being very severe against 
slaves, he was tried, and found guilty of having fled from 
his master ; and as a punishment for this pretended crime, 
he was sentenced to be torn in pieces by a furious lion, 



186 THE FIFTH READER. 

kept many days without food, to inspire him with addi- 
tional rage. 

9. When the destined moment arrived, the unhappy 
man was exposed, in the midst of a spacious area, enclosed 
on every side, around which many thousand people were 
assembled to view the mournful spectacle. 

10. Presently a dreadful yell was heard, which struck 
the spectators with horror ; and an immense lion rushed 
out of the den, which was purposely set open. The brute 
darted forward with erected mane and flaming eyes, and 
jaws that gaped like an open sepulcher. 

11. A mournful silence instantly prevailed ! All eyes 
were turned upon the destined victim, whose destruction 
now appeared inevitable. But the pity of the multitude 
was soon converted into astonishment when they beheld 
the lion, instead of destroying his defenceless prey, crouch 
submissively at his feet, fawn upon him as a faithful dog 
would fawn upon his master, and rejoice over him as a 
mother that unexpectedly recovers her offspring. 

12. The governor of the town, who was present, then 
called out with a loud voice, and ordered Androcles to 
explain to them this mystery, and how a savage of the 
fiercest nature should thus in a moment have forgotten 
his innate disposition, and be converted into a harmless 
animal. 

13. Androcles then related to the assembly every cir- 
cumstance of his late adventures, and concluded by saying 
that the very lion which now stood before them had been 
his friend and entertainer in the woods. 

14. All the persons present were astonished and de- 
lighted with the story, to find that even the fiercest beasts 
are capable of being softened by gratitude and moved by 
humanity ; and they unanimously joined to entreat from 
the governor the pardon of the unhappy man. This was 
immediately granted ; and Androcles was also presented 
with the lion, who had in this manner twice saved his life. 

TJwmas Day. 



SOLOMON AND THE BEES. 187 




LXXVIL — SOLOMON AJVD THE BEES. 

x. 

WHEN Solomon was reigning in his glory, 
Unto his throne the Qneen of Sheba came 
(So in the Talmnd yon may read the story), 

Drawn by the magic of the monarch's fame, 
To see the splendors of his conrt, and bring 
Some fitting tribute to the mighty king. 



188 THR. FIFTH EEADER. 

II. 

Nor this alone : much had her Highness heard 
What flowers of learning graced the royal speech ; 

What gems of wisdom dropped with every word ; 
What wholesome lessons he w x as wont to teach 

In pleasing proverbs ; and she wushed, in sooth, 

To know if Rumor spoke the simple truth. 

in. 

And straight she held before the monarch's view, 
In either hand, a radiant wreath of flowers ; 

The one, bedecked with every charming hue, 

Was newly culled from Nature's choicest bowers ; 

The other, no less fair in every part, 

Was the rare product of divinest Art. 

IV. 

" Which is the true, and which the false 1 " she said. 

Great Solomon was silent. All amazed, 
Each wondering courtier shook his puzzled head ; 

While at the garlands long the monarch gazed, 
As one who sees a miracle, and fain, 
For very rapture, ne'er would speak again. 

v. 

" Which is the true ] " once more the woman asked, 
Pleased at the fond amazement of the king ; 

" So wise a head should not be hardly tasked, 
Most learned Liege, with such a trivial thing ! " 

But still the sage was silent ; it was plain 

A deepening doubt perplexed the royal brain. 

VI. 

While thus he pondered, presently he sees, 

Hard by the casement, — so the story goes, — 

A little band of busy, bustling bees, 
Hunting for honey in a withered rose. 

The monarch smiled, and raised his royal head ; 
" Open the window ! " — that was all he said. 



THE EARTH'S JOURNEY ROUND THE SUN. 189 

VII. 

The window opened at the King's command ; 

Within the rooms the eager insects flew, 
And sought the flowers in Sheba's dexter hand ! 

And so the king and all the courtiers knew 
That wreath was Nature's ; — and the baffled queen 
Returned to tell the wonders she had seen. 

VIII. 

My story teaches (every tale should bear 

A fitting moral) that the wise may find 
In trifles light as atoms in the air 

Some useful lesson to enrich the mind, — 
Some truth designed to profit or to please, 
As Israel's king learned wisdom from the bees ! 

John G- Saxe. 



LXXYIIL — THJE EARTH'S JOURNEY ROUND 

THE SUN. 

OjSTE, two, three, four, five ! Does the reader know 
that while he has been counting these five beats, five 
seconds, he has actually been conveyed through space a 
distance of more than a hundred miles ? Yet so it is. 
However incredible it may seem, no fact is more certain 
than that the earth is constantly on the wing, flying around 
the sun with a velocity so prodigious that for every breath 
we draw we advance on our way forty or fifty miles. 

2. If, when passing across the waters in a steamboat, 
we can wake, after a night's repose, and find ourselves 
conducted on our voyage a hundred miles, we exult in the 
triumphs of art, which lias moved so ponderous a body 
as a steam-ship over such a space in so short a time, and so 
quietly, too, as not to disturb our slumbers. But, with a 
motion vastly more quiet and uniform, we have, in the 
same interval, been carried along with the earth in its orbit 
more than half a million of miles. 

3. In the case of the steam-ship, however perfect the 
machinery may be, we still, in our waking hours at least, 



190 THE FIFTH READEK. 

are made sensible of the action of the forces by which the 
motion is maintained, — as the roaring of the fire, the 
beating of the piston, and the dashing of the paddle-wheels ; 
but in the more perfect machinery which carries the earth 
forward on its grander voyage, no sound is heard, nor the 
least intimation afforded of the stupendous forces by which 
this motion is achieved. 

4. The distance of the sun from the earth is about 
ninety-five millions of miles. No human mind can com- 
prehend fully what this vast distance means. But we may 
form some conception of it by such an illustration as this : 
A ship may leave Liverpool and cross the Atlantic to New 
York after twenty days' steady sail; but it would take 
that ship, moving constantly at the rate of ten miles an 
hour, more than a thousand years to reach the sun. 

5. And yet, at this vast distance, the sun, by his power 
of attraction, serves as the great regulator of the planetary 
motions, bending them continually from the straight line 
in which they tend to move, and compelling them to circu- 
late around him, each at nearly a uniform distance, and 
all in perfect harmony. 

6. Let us reflect for a moment upon the wonderful force 
which the sun must put forth to bend out of their courses 
into circular orbits such a number of planets, some of them 
more than a thousand times larger than the earth. Were 
a ship of war under full sail, we can easily imagine what 
a force it would require to turn her from her course by a 
rope attached to her bow, — especially were it required that 
the force should remain stationary, and the ship be so held 
as to be made to go round the force as round a center. 

7. Somewhat similar to this, but on a much grandei 
scale, is the action which is exerted on the earth in its 
journey round the sun. By an invisible influence, which 
is called gravitation, the sun turns all the planets out of 
their course, and bends them into a circular orbit round 
himself, though they are all many million of times more 
ponderous than the ship, and are moving many thousand 
times more swiftly. 



OVER THE HILL. 19! 

LXXIX.— OVER THE HILL, 

i. 

TRAVELER, what lies over the hill? 
Traveler, tell to me : 
I am only a child, — from the window-sill 
Over I cannot see." 

ii. 
"Child, there 's a valley over there, 

Pretty and wooded and shy ; 
And a little brook that says, ' Take care, 

Or I '11 drown you by and by.' " 

in. 
'' And what comes next I " " A little town. 

And a towering hill again ; 
More hills and valleys, up and down, 

And a river now and then." 

IV. 

" And what comes next V "A lonely moor 

Without a beaten way ; 
And gray clouds sailing slow before 

A wind that will not stay." 

v. 
" And then 1" " Dark rocks and yellow sand, 

And a moaning sea beside." 
" And then 1 " " More sea, more sea, more land, 

And rivers deep and wide." 

VI. 

"And then ?" " 0, rock and mountain and vale 

Rivers and fields and men, 
Over and over — a weary tale — 

And round to your home again." 

VII. 

"And is that all? Have you told the best?" 

" No, neither the best nor the end. 
On summer eves, away in the west, 

You will see a stair ascend, 



192 THE FIFTH READER. 

VIII. 

" Built of all colors of lovely stones, — 

A stair up into the sky, 
Where no one is weary, and no one moans, 

Or wants to be laid by." 

IX. 

" I will go." " But the steps are very steep ; 

If you would climb up there, 
You must lie at the foot, as still as sleep, 

A very step of the stair." 

MacDonald. 



LXXX. — TOM BROWN STARTING FOR RUGBY. 

/^ EEAT was the grief amongst the village school-boys 
yJT when Tom Brown drove off with the Squire one 
August morning to meet the coach on his way to school 
at Eugby. Each of them had given him some little pres- 
ent of the best that he had, and his small private oox was 
full of peg-tops, white marbles, screws, birds' eggs, whip- 
cord, jews-harps, and other miscellaneous boys' wealth. 

2. Poor Jacob Doodle-calf, in floods of tears, had pressed 
upon him with spluttering earnestness his lame pet hedge- 
hog (he had always some poor broken-down beast or bird 
by him) ; but this Tom had been obliged to refuse by the 
Squire's order. 

3. He had given them all a great tea under the big elm 
in their play-ground, for which Madam Brown had supplied 
the biggest cake ever seen in our village ; and Tom was really 
as sorry to leave them as they to lose him, but his sorrow 
was not unmixed with the pride and excitement of making 
a new step in life. 

4. Tom and his father had alighted at the Peacock Inn, 
London, at about seven in the evening, and having heard 
with unfeigned joy the paternal order for supper, and seen 
his father seated cozily by the bright fire in the coffee-room, 
with the paper in his hand, Tom had run out to see about 



TOM BROWN STARTING FOR RUGBY. 193 

him, bad wondered at all the vehicles passing and repassing, 
and had fraternized with the boots and hostler, from whom 
be ascertained that the Tally-ho coach was a tiptop goer, 
ten miles an hour including stoppages, and so punctual that 
all the road set their clocks by her. 

5. Then, being summoned to supper, he had regaled him- 
self on beef-steak and oyster-sauce ; had at first attended to 
the excellent advice his father gave him ; and then began 
nodding, from the united effects of the supper, the fire, and 
the lecture ; till the Squire, observing Tom's state, and re- 
membering thai it was nearly nine o'clock, and that the 
Tally-ho left at three, sent the little fellow to bed, with a 
shake of the hand and a few parting words. 

6. " And now, Tom, my boy," said the Squire, " remem- 
ber you are going, at your own earnest request, to be 
chucked into this great school, like a young bear, with all 
your troubles before you, earlier than we should have sent 
you perhaps. If schools are what they were in my time, 
you '11 see a great many cruel, blackguard things done, and 
hear a deal of foul, bad talk. But never fear. You tell 
the truth, keep a brave and kind heart, and never listen to 
or say anything you would n't have your mother and sister 
hear, and you '11 never feel ashamed to come home, or we 
to see you." 

7. The allusion to his mother made Tom feel rather 
choky, and he would have liked to hug his father well* 
As it was, he only squeezed his father's hand, and looked 
bravely up and said, " I '11 try, father." 

8. " I know you will, my boy. Is your money all 
safe ? " 

" Yes," said Tom, diving into one pocket to make sure. 

9. " And your keys ? " said the Squire. 

" All right," said Tom, diving into the other. 

10. " Well, then, good night. God bless you ! 1 11 tell 
Boots to call you, and be up to see you off." 

11. Tom was carried off by the chambermaid to a clean 
little attic ; and, still thinking of his father's last words, 



194 THE FIFTH READEK. 

and the look with which they were spoken, he knelt down 
and prayed, that come what might, he might never bring 
shame or sorrow on the dear folks at home. 

12. Indeed, the Squire's last words deserved to have 
.their effect, for they had been the result of much anxious 
thought. All the way up to London he had pondered what 
he should say to Tom by way of parting advice, — some- 
thing that the boy could keep in his head ready for use. 

13. To condense the Squire's meditation, it was some- 
what as follows : " I won't tell him to read his Bible, and 
love and serve God; if he don't do that for his mother's 
sake and teaching, he won't for mine. 

14. " Shall I go into the sort of temptations he 11 meet 
with ? No, I can't do that. Never do for an old fellow to 
go into such things with a boy. He won't understand me. 
Do him more harm than good, ten to one. 

15. " Shall I tell him to mind his work, and say he's 
sent to school to make himself a good scholar ? Well, but 
he is n't sent to school for that, — at any rate, not for that 
mainly. I don't care a straw for Greek particles, or the 
digamma ; no more does his mother. 

16. "What is he sent to school for ? Well, partly be- 
cause he wanted to go. If he '11 only turn out a brave, 
helpful, truth-telling man, and a gentleman, and a Chris- 
tian, that 's all I want," thought the Squire ; and upon this 
view of the case framed his last words of advice to Tom, 
which were well enough suited to their purpose. 

17. For they were Tom's first thoughts as he tumbled out 
of bed at the summons of Boots, and proceeded rapidly to 
wash and dress himself. At ten minutes to three he was 
down in the coffee-room in his stockings, carrying his hat- 
box, coat, and comforter in his hand ; and there he found 
his father nursing a bright fire, and a cup of hot coffee and 
a hard biscuit on the table. 

18. " Now, then, Tom, give us your things here, and drink 
that ; there 's nothing like starting warm, old fellow." 

19. Tom addressed himself to the coffee, and prattled 



TOM BROWN STARTING FOR RUGBY. 195 

away while he worked himself into his shoes and his 
great-coat, well warmed through. And just as he is 
swallowing his last mouthful, winding his comforter round 
his throat, and tucking the ends into the breast of his coat, 
the horn sounds, Boots looks in and says, " Tally-ho, sir " ; 
and they hear the ring and the rattle of the four fast trot- 
ters and the town-made drag, as it dashes up to the inn. 

20. " Anything for us, Bob ? " says the burly guard, drop- 
ping down from behind, and slapping himself across the chest. 

21. "Young genl'm'n, Rugby; three parcels, Leicester; 
hamper o' game, Rugby," answers hostler. 

, 22. " Tell young gent to look alive," says Guard, opening 
the hind-boot, and shooting in the parcels after examining 
them by the lamps. " Here, shove the portmanteau up a- 
top, — I '11 fasten him presently. Now then, sir, jump up 
behind." 

23. " Good-by, father, — my love at home." A last shake 
of the hand. Up goes Tom, the guard catching his hat-box 
and holding on with one hand, while with the other he claps 
his horn to his mouth, Toot, toot, toot ! the hostler lets go 
their heads, the four bays plunge at the collar, and away goes 
the Tally-ho, forty-five seconds from the time they pulled 

U P- T. Hughes. 

EXERCISE. 

1. Great was the grief amongst the village school-boys. 

2. Each of them had given him some little present. 

3. Madame Brown had supplied the biggest cake ever seen in our 

village. 

4. Tom and his father alighted at the inn. 

5. He heard with unfeigned joy the paternal order for supper. 

6. He ivondered at all the vehicles passing. 

7. He fraternized with the boots and hostler. 

8. He ascertained that the coach was a tiptop goer. 

9. Being summoned to supper he regaled himself on beef-steak and 

oyster-sauce. 
, 10. You are going to be chucked into this great school. 

11- All the way up to London he had pondered what he should say 
to Tom. 



X96 THE FIFTH READER. 

LXXXI. — THE KNIGHTS TOAST, 

i. 

THE feast is o'er ! Now brimming wine 
In lordly cup is seen to shine 
Before each eager guest ; 
And silence fills the crowded hall, 
As deep as when the herald's call 
Thrills in the loyal breast. 

II. 
Then up arose the noble host, 
And smiling cried : "A toast ! a toast ! 

To all our ladies fair ! 
Here, before all, I pledge the name 
Of Staunton's proud and beauteous dame, - 

The Lady Gmidamere ! " 

in. 
Then to his feet each gallant sprung, 
And joyous was the shout that rung, 

As Stanley gave the word ■ 
And every cup was raised on high, 
Nor ceased the loud and gladsome cry, 

Till Stanley's voice was heard. 

IV. 

" Enough, enough," he smiling said, 
And lowly bent his haughty head • 

" That all may have their due, 
Now each, in turn, must play his part, 
And pledge the lady of his heart, 

Like gallant knight and true ! " 

v. 

Then, one by one, each guest sprang up, 
And drained in turn the brimming cup, 

And named the loved one's name ; 
And each, as hand on high he raised, 
His lady's grace or beauty praised, 

Her constancy and fame. 



THE KNIGHT'S TOAST. 197 

VI. 

T is now St. Leon's turn to rise ; 

On him are fixed those countless eyes ; — 

A gallant knight is he ; 
Envied by some, admired by all, 
Far famed in lady's bower, and hall, — 

The flower of chivalry. 

VII. 

St. Leon raised' his kindling eye, 
And lifts the sparkling cup on high : 

" I drink to one" he said, 
" Whose image never may depart, 
Deep graven on this grateful heart, 

Till memory be dead. 

VIII. 

" To one whose love for me shall last 
When lighter passions long have past, 

So holy 't is and true ; 
To one whose love hath longer dwelt, 
More deeply fixed, more keenly felt, 

Than any pledged by you." 

IX. 

Each guest upstarted at the word, 
And laid a hand upon his sword, 

With fury-flashing eye ; 
And Stanley said : "We crave the name* 
Proud knight, of this most peerless dame 

Whose love you count so high." 

x. 

St. Leon paused, as if he would 

Not breathe her name in careless mood, 

Thus, lightly, to another ; 
Then bent his noble head, as though 
To give that word the reverence due, 
. And gently said : " My Mother ! " 



198 THE FIFTH KEADEK. 



LXXXII. — HEALTH. 



HEALTH is a blessing so invaluable that you cannot 
be too careful in preserving it. It is that which 
makes your meat and drink savory, and your sleep refresh- 
ing ; which gives bloom to your cheek and suppleness t 
your limbs, and renders active exertion a delight. When 
health deserts you, food loses its relish, and exercise be- 
comes a toil. Sleep refuses to lull • you into sweet forget- 
fulness ; and you leave your couch — if, indeed, you are ever 
able to leave it — tired and unrefreshed. You are feeble, 
spiritless, despondent. Life itself becomes a burden. 

2. Three things are especially necessary to the preserva- 
tion of health, — pure air, due exercise, and cleanliness. 

3. In breathing, you first draw air into the lungs, and 
then send it out from them. But when it returns from the 
lungs, it is not in the same state as when it entered. Nearly 
two fifths of that portion of it which is of the most value in 
sustaining life has disappeared, and its place has been sup- 
plied by an equal volume of what is positively injurious. 
If the same air is breathed again and again, it at last 
becomes altogether incapable of supporting life. 

4. Accordingly, it is found that the air of a close room 
in which any considerable number of persons are assembled 
soon becomes noxious, while even the breath of a single 
person is sufficient, after a time, to make such a room 
unwholesome. Those who labor in confined and crowded 
workshops are neither so long-lived nor so healthy as those 
who work in airy buildings ; and in the open country the 
average duration of human life exceeds that in the towns 
by at least sixteen years. 

5. You may have heard of the horrible suffering which 
was endured in the Black Hole of Calcutta, in 1756. One 
hundred and forty-six Englishmen were thrust into a 
wretched prison eighteen feet square, in winch there were 
only two very small windows by which air could be ad- 
mitted. Scarcely was the door shut upon the prisoners 



HEALTH. 199 

when their sufferings commenced, and in a short time a 
delirious and mortal struggle ensued to get near the win- 
dows. "Within four hours those who survived lay in the 
silence of apoplectic stupor; at the end of six hours ninety- 
six were relieved by death ; and in the morning, when the 
door was opened, twenty-three only were found alive, many 
of whom were subsequently cut off by putrid fever caused 
by the dreadful corruption of the air. 

6. Exercise is highly conducive to health, especially 
when taken out of doors. By means of walking, riding, 
boating, and the various manly sports, the chest is ex- 
panded, the muscles strengthened, the blood more briskly 
circulated, and the pores of the skin kept open. Yet it 
should be remembered that exercise never ought to be 
taken to the extent of causing exhaustion, and that the 
risk of a sudden chill after copious perspiration should be 
carefully avoided. 

7. The necessity of cleanliness arises from the peculiar 
structure of the skin. It is said that there are seven mil- 
lions of pores in the skin, and that these pores are the ori- 
fices or mouths of tubes intended to carry off effete matter 
from the body. Yet they are constantly liable to be closed 
and obstructed. It thus happens that in the course of a 
day the whole skin becomes so coated with impurities that 
its pores get clogged, and cease to permit the free passage 
which is required of them. How is this coating to be 
removed? Only, it is obvious, by frequent ablution or 
washing. 

8. u The canary," says Professor Miller, " teaches us two 
good lessons. The bird whistles in its captivity, preaching 
contentment ; and it carefully washes itself. What is the 
most precious gift you can make to a canary ? A saucer 
with some clean water. In it hops with a chirp; and, 
spluttering with its wings, how it enjoys its bath ! Well, 
we, too, can always have a saucerful of clean water with 
a sponge ; and the man, if he will, can then make a 

plutter of it, like the canary." 



200 THE J^IFTH READER. 



M 



LXXXIII. — CLEAR THE WAY. 

FIRST VOICE. 

EN of thought ! be up and stirring, night and day : 
Sow the seed, — withdraw the curtain, — clear the way ; 



SECOND VOICE. 

Men of action, aid and cheer them, as ye may ! 

There 's a fount about to stream, 

There 's a light about to beam, 

There 's a warmth about to glow, 

There 's a flower about to blow ; 
There's a midnight blackness changing into gray. 

FIRST VOICE. 

Men of thought and men of action, clear the way ! 

THIRD VOICE. 

Once the welcome light has broken, who shall say 
What the unimagined glories of the day 1 
What the evil that shall perish in its ray ? 

FOURTH VOICE. 

Aid the dawning, tongue and pen ; 
Aid it, hopes of honest men ; 
Aid it, paper; aid it, type ; 
Aid it, for the hour is ripe, 
And our earnest must not slacken into play. 

FIRST VOICE. 

Men of thought and men of action, clear the way ! 

SECOND VOICE. 

Lo ! a cloud 's about to vanish from the day ; 

And a brazen wrong to crumble into clay. 

Lo ! the right 's about to conquer : clear the way ! 

THIRD VOICE. 

With the right shall many more 
Enter smiling at the door ; 
With the giant wrong shall fall 
Many others, great and small, 
That for ages long have held us for their prey. 

ALL. 

Men of thought and men of action, clear the way ! 

Charles MacJcay. 



THE CHAMPION SPELLER. 201 

LXXXIV.-T^ CHAMPION SPELLER. 

THE most extraordinary spelling, and, indeed, reading 
machine in our school was a boy whom I shall call 
Mem'orus Wordwell. He was mighty and wonderful in 
the acquisition and remembrance of words, — of signs with- 
out the ideas signified. The alphabet he acquired at home 
before he was two years old. What exultation of parents, 
what exclamation from admiring visitors ! " There was 
never anything like it." 

2. He had almost accomplished his a-b, abs, before he 
was thought old enough for school. At an earlier age than 
usual, .however, he was sent ; and then he went from Ache 
to Abomination in half the summers and winters it took 
the rest of us to go over the same space. It was astonish- 
ing how quickly he mastered column after column, section 
after section, of obstinate orthographies. 

3. Those martial terms I have just used, together with 
our hero's celerity, put me in mind of Qesar; so I will 
quote him. Memorus might have said, in respect to the 
hosts of the spelling-book, " I came, I saw, I conquered." 
He generally stood at the head of a class every member 
of which was two years his elder. Poor creatures ! they 
studied hard, some of them, but it did no good ; Memorus 
Wordwell was born to be above them, as some men are 
said to have been " born to command." 

4. Master Wordwell was a remarkable reader, too. 
When but five years old he could rattle off a word as 
extensive as the name of a Eussian noble as easily as the 
schoolmaster himself. " He can read in the hardest chap- 
ters of the Testament as fast ag'in as I can," said Ms 
mother. " I never did see anything beat it ! " exclaimed 
his father ; " he speaks up as loud as a minister." 

5. But I have said enough about this prodigy. I have 
said thus much because, although he was thought so sur- 
passingly bright, he was the most decided ninny in the 
school. The fact is, he did not know what the sounds he 



202 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

uttered meant. It never entered his head, nor the heads 
of his parents and most of his teachers, that words and 
sentences were written, and should be read, only to be 
understood. 

6. One little anecdote about Memorus Word well before 
we let him go. It happened one day that the " cut and 
split" wood for the fire fell short, and Jonas Patch was out 
wielding the ax in school-time. He had been at work 
about half an hour, when Memorus, who was perceived to 
have less to do than the rest, was sent out to take his 
place. He was about ten years old, and four years younger 
than Jonas. " Memorus," said the teacher, " you may go 
out and spell Jonas." 

7. Our hero did not think of the Yankee sense in which 
the master used the word spell. Indeed, Memorus had 
attached but one meaning to it whenever it was used with 
reference to himself. He supposed the master was grant- 
ing him a ride extraordinary on his favorite hobby. So he 
put his spelling-book under his arm and was out at the 
wood-pile with the speed of a boy rushing to play. 

8. " Have you learnt your spellin' -lesson, Jonas ? " was 
his first salutation. " I have n't looked at it yit," was the 
reply. " I mean to cut up this plaguy great log, spellin' or 
no spellin', before I go in. I had as lief keep warm here 
choppin' wood as freeze up there in that cold back seat." 
" Well, the master sent me out to hear you spell." " Did 
he ? Well, put out the words, and I '11 spell." 

9. Memorus being so distinguished a speller, Jonas did 
not doubt but that he was really sent out on this errand. 
So our deputy spelling-master mounted the top of the 
wood-pile, just in front of Jonas, to put out words to his 
temporary pupil, who still kept the chips flying. 

10. " Do you know where the lesson begins, Jonas ? " 
'•' No, I don't ; but I s'pose I shall find out now." "Well, 
here 't is." (They both belonged to the same class.) * Spell 
A-bom-i-na'tion." Jonas spells: A h-o-m,hom y a-'bom, — in 
the mean time up goes the ax high in air, — i, a-bom-i, — 



THE CHAMPION SPELLER. 203 

down it goes again into the wood, — n-a, na, a-bom-i-na, — - 
up it goes again, — t-i-o-n, lion, a-bom-i-na-tion. Chuck 
goes the ax again, and at the same time out flies a furious 
chip, and hits Memorus on the nose. 

11. At this moment the master appeared just at the 
corner of the school-house, with one foot still on the thresh- 
old. " Jonas, why don't you come in ? Did n't I send 
Memorus out to spell you ? " " Yes, sir ; and he has been 
spelling me. How could I come in if he spelt me here ? " 

12. At this the master's eye caught Memorus perched up 
on the top stick, with his book open upon his lap, rubbing 
his nose, and just in the act of putting out the next word 
of the column. " Ac-com-mo-da'tion," pronounced Memo- 
rus, in a broken but louder voice than before ; for he had 
caught a glimpse of the master, and he wished to let him 
know that he was doing his duty. 

13. This was too much for the master's gravity. He 
perceived the mistake, and, without saying more, wheeled 
back into the school-room, almost bursting with the most 
tumultuous laugh he ever tried to suppress. The scholars 
wondered at his looks, and grinned in sympathy. 

14. In a few moments Jonas came in, followed by 
Memorus with his spelling-book, who exclaimed, " I have 
heard him spell clean through the whole lesson, and he did 
n't spell one quarter of 'em right." The master could hold 
in no longer. The scholars, too, perceived the blunder, and 
there w 7 as one simultaneous roar from teacher and pupils ; 
the scholars laughing twice as loud and uproariously in 
consequence of being permitted to laugh in school-time, 
and to do it with the accompaniment of the master. 

15. It was some time before Memorus could be made to 
see where the joke lay. At last the teacher told him to 
look out the w 7 ord spell in the dictionary. He did so, and 
found among the definitions under spell, when a transitive 
verb, the following : " To take the turn or place of." Light 
began to daw T n on the mind of the champion. 

Warren Burton. 



204 THE FIFTH READER. 

LXXXV. — CHEERS AND TEARS. 

i. 

IT was a Sergeant old and gray, 
Well singed and bronzed from siege and pillage 
Went tramping in an army's wake, 

Along the turnpike of the village. 
For days and nights the winding host 

Had through the little place been marching, 
And ever loud the rustics cheered, 

Till every throat was hoarse and parching. 

II. 

The Squire and farmer, maid and dame, 

All took the sight's electric stirring, 
And hats were waved, and staves were sung. 

And kerchiefs white were countless whirring. 
They only saw a gallant show 

Of heroes stalwart under banners, 
And in the fierce heroic glow, 

'T was theirs to yield but wild hosannas. 

in. 
The Sergeant heard the shrill hurrahs, 

Where he behind in step was keeping ; 
But glancing down beside the road, 

He saw a little maid sit weeping. 
" And how is this 1 " he gruffly said, 

A moment pausing to regard her ; 
" Why weepest thou, my little pet i" 

And then she only cried the harder. 

IV. 

" And how is this, my little miss ? " 

The sturdy trooper straight repeated, 
"When all the village cheers us on, 

That you, in tears, apart are seated ? 
We march two hundred thousand strong, 

And that 's a sight, my baby beauty, 
To quicken silence into song, 

And glorifv the soldier's duty." 



CHEERS AND TEAKS. 205 

v. 
u It 's very, very grand, I know," 

The little maid gave soft replying ; 
"And father, mother, brother too, 

All say * Hurrah ! ' while I am crying ; 
But think, Mr. Soldier, think, 

How many little sisters' brothers 
Are going all away to fight, 

And may be killed, as well as others ! " 

VI. 

" Why, bless thee, child," the Sergeant said, 

His brawny hand her curls caressing, 
" 'T is left for little ones like thee 

To find that war 's not all a blessing/' 
And " Bless thee ! " once again he cried ; 

Then cleared his throat and looked indignant, 
And marched away with wrinkled brow 

To stop the struggling tear benignant.. 

VII. 

And still the ringing shouts went np 

From doorway, thatch, and fields of tillage ; 
The pall behind the standard seen 

By one alone, of all the village. 
The oak and cedar bend and writhe, 

When roars the wind through gap and bracken ; 
But 't is the tenderest reed of all 

That trembles first when earth is shaken. 

R. H. Newell. 



EXERCISE. 

1 An old sergeant went tramping in an army's ivaJce. 

2. The rustics cheered till every throat was hoarse and parching. 

3. Countless white handkerchiefs were whirring. 

4. They only saw a gallant show of stalwart heroes under banners 

5. It was theirs to yield wild hosannas. [Shouts of praise.] 

6. "How is this?" the sturdy trooper straight repeated. 

7. His brawny hand caressed her curls. 

8. He marched away to stop the benignant tear. 



206 THE FIFTH READER. 

LXXXVL- BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 

DURING one of last summer's hottest days, I had 
the good fortune to be seated in a railway car near 
a mother and four children, whose relations with each 
other were singularly beautiful. It was plain that they 
were poor. The mother's bonnet alone would have been 
enough to condemn the whole in any one of the world's 
thoroughfares, but her face was one which it gave a sense 
of rest to look upon ; it was earnest, tender, true, and 
strong. The children — two boys and two girls — were 
all under the age of twelve, and the youngest could not 
speak plainly. 

2. They had had a rare treat. They had been visiting 
the mountains, and w^ere talking over the wonders they had 
seen with a glow of enthusiastic delight which was to be 
envied ; and the mother bore her part all the while with 
such equal interest and eagerness, that no one not seeing 
her face would have dreamed that she was any other than 
an elder sister. 

3. In the course of the day there were many occasions 
when it was necessary for her to deny requests and to 
ask services, especially from the elder boy; but no girl 
anxious to please a lover could have done either with a 
more tender courtesy. She had her reward, for no lover 
could have been more tender and manly than was the boy 
of twelve. 

4 Their lunch was simple and scanty, but it had the 
grace of a royal banquet. At the last the mother produced 
with much glee three apples and an orange, of which the 
children had not known. All eyes fastened on the orange. 
It was evidently a great rarity. I watched to see if this 
test would bring out selfishness. The mother said : " How 
shall I divide this? There is one for each of you, and 1 
shall be best off of all, for I expect big tastes from each of 
you." 

5. " 0, give Annie the orange ! Annie loves oranges/ 



BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES. 207 

spoke out the elder boy, with the air of a conqueror, at 
the same time taking the smallest and worst apple for him- 
self. " yes, let Annie have the orange/' echoed the sec- 
ond boy, nine years old. 

6. " Yes, Annie may have the orange, because it is nicer 
than the apple, and she is a lady and her brothers are gen- 
tlemen," said the mother, quietly. Then there was a merry 
contest as to who should feed the mother with the largest 
and most frequent mouthfuls ; and so the feast went on. 

7. Then Annie pretended to want apple, and exchanged 
thin golden strips of orange for bites out of the cheeks of 
Baldwins ; and as I sat watching her intently, she suddenly 
fancied she saw a longing in my face, and sprang over to 
me, saying, " Do you want a taste too ? " 

8. The mother smiled understandingly when I said, " No, 
I thank you, you dear, generous little girl ; I don't care 
about oranges." 

9. At noon we had a tedious interval of waiting at a 
dreary station. We sat for two hours on a narrow platform 
which the sun had scorched till it smelt of heat. The elder 
boy, the little lover, held the youngest child and talked to 
her, while the tired mother closed her eyes and rested. 

10. The other two children were toiling up and down 
the railroad banks, picking ox-eyed daisies, buttercups, and 
sorrel. They worked like beavers, and soon the bunches 
were almost too big for their little hands. They came run- 
ning to give them to their mother. 

11. " dear ! " thought I ; " how that poor tired woman 
will hate to open her eyes ! and she never can take those 
great bundles of wilting, worthless flowers in addition to 
her bundles and bao;s." I was mistaken. 

12. " 0, thank you, my darlings ! How kind you were ) 
Poor, hot, tired little flowers, how thirsty they look ! If 
they will try and keep alive till we get home, we will 
make them very happy in some water, won't we ? And 
you shall put one bunch by papa's plate and one by 
mine." 



208 THE FIFTH KEADER. 

13. Sweet and happy, the weary and flushed little chil- 
dren stood looking up in her face while she talked, their 
hearts thrilling with compassion for the drooping flowers, 
and with delight in giving their gift. Then she took great 
trouble to get a string and tie up the flowers ; and the 
train came, and we were whirling along again. 

14. Soon it grew dark, and little Annie's head nodded. 
Then I heard the mother say to the elder boy, " Dear, are 
you too tired to let little Annie put her head on your 
shoulder and take a nap ? We shall get her home in much 
better case to her papa, if we can manage to give her a 
little sleep." How many little boys of twelve hear such 
words as these from tired, over-burdened mothers ? 

15. Soon came the city, the final station, with its bustle 
and noise. I lingered to watch my happy family, hoping 
to see the father. " Why, papa is n't here ! " exclaimed one 
disappointed little voice after another. " Never mind," said 

•the mother, with a still deeper disappointment in her 
tone ; " perhaps he had to go to see some poor body who 
is sick." 

16. In the hurry of picking up all the parcels and the 
sleepy babies, the poor daisies and buttercups were left 
forgotten in the corner of the rack. I wondered if the 
mother had not intended this. May I be forgiven for the 
injustice ! A few minutes after I had passed the little 
group, standing still just outside the station, I heard the 
mother say, " my darlings, I have forgotten your pretty 
bouquets. I am so sorry ! I wonder if I could find them 
if 1 went back ? Will you all stand still and not stir from 
tliis spot, if I go ? " 

17. " mamma, don't go ! We will get you some more. 
Don't go ! " cried all the children. 

18. "Here are your flowers, madam," said I. "I saw 
you had forgotten them, and I took them as mementos of 
you and your sweet children." She blushed and looked 
disconcerted. She was evidently unused to people, and 
shy with all but her children. 



THE STREAMLET. 209 

19. However, she thanked me sweetly, and said, " I was 
very sorry about them. The children took such trouble 
to get them, and I think they will revive in water. They 
cannot be quite dead." 

20. " They will never die ! " said I with an emphasis 
which went from my heart to hers. Then all her shyness 
fled. We shook hands, and smiled into each other's eyes 
with the smile of kindred as we parted. 

21. As I followed on, I heard the two children who were 
walking behind saying to each other, " Would n't that have 
been too bad ? Mamma liked them so much, and we never 
could have got so many all at once again." 

22. "Yes, we could, too, next summer," said the boy, 
sturdily. 

23. They are sure of their " next summer," I think, all 
of those six souls, — children, and mother, and father. 
They may never raise so many ox-eyed daisies and butter- 
cups " all at once." Perhaps some of the little hands have 
already picked their last flowers. Xevertheless their sum- 
mers are certain to such souls as these, either here or in 
God's larger country. 



LXXX VII. — THE STREAMLET. 

i. 

IT is only the tiniest stream, 
With nothing whatever to do, 
But to creep from its mosses, and gleam 

In just a thin ribbon or two, 
Where it spills from the rock, and besprinkles 
Tne flowers all round it with dew. 

ii. 
Half-way up the hillside it slips 

From darkness out into the light, 
Slides over the ledges, and drips 

In a basin all bubbling and bright, 
Then once more, in the long meadow-grasses, 

In silence it sinks out of sight. 



210 THE FIFTH READER. 

in. 
So slender, so brief in its course ! 

It will never be useful or grand, 
Like the waterfall foaming and hoarse, 

Or the river benignant and bland, 
That sweeps far away through the valley. 

And turns all the mills in the land. 

IV. 

Just a brooklet, so perfect, so sweet, — 
Like a child that is always a child ! 

A picture as fair and complete, 
As softly and peacefully wild, 

As if Nature had only just made it, 
And laid down her pencil and smiled. 

v. 

The strong eagle perched on these rocks 
And dipped his proud beak, long ago ; 

In the gray of the morning the fox 
Came and lapped in the basin below ; 

By a hoof-printed trail through the thicket 
The deer used to pass to and fro. 

VI. 

Now the jolly haymakers in June 

Bring their luncheon, and couch on the cool 

Grassy margin, and drink to the tune 

The brook makes in its pebble-lined pool, — 
From grandfather down to the youngsters 
In haying-time kept out of school. 

VII. 

They joke and tell tales as they eat, 
While, wistful his share to receive, 

The dog wags his tail at their feet ; 

Then each stout mower tucks up his sleeve 

As the farmer cries, " Come, boys ! " The squirrel 
Dines well on the crumbs which they leave. 



,./,////'l 



THE STREAMLET. 

Mi \ 



211 




VIII. 



The children all know of the place, 
And here with their basket, in search 

Of wild roses, come Bertha nnd Grace, 
And Paul with his fish-pole and perch 



212 THE FIFTH EEADEE. 

While the meadow-lark sings, and above them 
The woodpecker drums on the birch. 

IX. 

Is the drop the bee finds in the clover 
More sweet than the liquor they quaff? 

It drips in the cup, and runs over; 
And, sipping it, spilling it half, — 

Hear their mirth ! Did Grace learn of the brooklet 
That low, lisping, crystalline laugh? 

x. 

For music I'm sure it taught 

To its neighbor, the pied bobolink, — 
Where else could the fellow have caught 

That sw T eet liquid note, do you think, 
Half tinkle, half gurgle? The wren, too, 

I'm certain has been here to drink! 

XI. 

O, teach me your song, happy brook ! 

If I visit you yet many times, 
If I put away business and book, 

And list to your fairy-bell chimes, 
Will your freshness breathe into my verses, 

Your music glide into my rhymes? 

J. T. Trowbridge. 



EXERCISE. 

1. It is only the tiniest stream, with nothing whatever to do. 

2. It spills from the rock, and besprinkles the flowers with dew. 

3. It slides over the ledges, and drips in a basin. 

4. Its course is- slender and brief. 

5. The deer used to pass to and fro by a hoof-printed trail through the 
thicket. 

6. The jolly haymakers bring their luncheon. 

7. Thy couch on the cool grassy margin. 

8. Is the drop the bee finds more sweet than the liquor they quaff? 



A BEVOLUTIONARY HERO IN THE PULPIT. 213 

LXXXVIII .— A REVOLUTIONARY HERO IN 
THE PULPIT. 

IT was Monday, March 6, 1775, — a memorable day in 
the history of Boston. The streets were crowded with 
an anxious throng, stores were closed, and business scarcely 
thought of. Oyer the Xeck, and by Charlestown Ferry, 
country people were coming into town on foot, on horse- 
back, and in wagons, while here and there a chaise, as it 
rolled along, showed that the squires and the gentlemen 
had an interest in the passing eyents. Groups collected 
at the corners in animated conversation ; and occasionally 
a soldier in the scarlet uniform of King George went hur- 
riedly by, his ears tingling with the imprecations and mut- 
terings that reached them from eyery side. 

2. The Boston Massacre was, as usual, to be commem- 
orated by an oration. The anniversary properly came the 
day before, on Sunday ; but the sacredness of holy time 
was observed, and the services deferred. Four of these 
sad occasions had already passed, each succeeding year 
bringing new and heavier troubles and dangers. But 
that unfortunate affray in King Street, when Preston's 
soldiers fired upon the excited crowd, was kept fresh in 
mind ; and its anniversary, with the attending ceremonies, 
served, as was the intention, to foster the liberty-loving 
spirit of the people. 

3. Each succeeding year only intensified the animosity 
to British rule ; for the authorities scorned conciliatory 
measures, and the Colonists were learning to assert their 
rights. War was actually impending ; but the presence 
of hostile troops, the tyrannical acts of the imperious Brit- 
ish general, the fortifications erected in various parts of the 
town, the destitute and suffering condition of the popula- 
tion, — all could not restrain the patriots from publicly 
observing the day. Conflict was in the air and on the 
tongue ; and the people, educated by rapidly succeeding 
acts of oppression, did not shrink from the now inevi- 
table struggle for liberty*- 



214 THE FIFTH READER. 

4. The excitement increased; and, while there was no 
actual disturbance, countenances were grave with the 
momentous interests that seemed to center in that anni- 
versary. British troops held the town, and Tories were 
exultant. Strong fortifications had been erected across the 
Neck, — then the only avenue into the country, — and these 
were mounted with cannon, and manned by three hun- 
dred and forty soldiers. On the Common, seventeen hun- 
dred troops were stationed, and extensive intrenchments 
thrown up. Fort Hill, Beacon Hill, King Street, Castle 
William, and other prominent points, were well guarded, 
and an army of thirteen thousand men was expected early 
the next month. 

5. But with all this display of military power, with all 
this attempt to overawe and subdue the town, and with 
all these precautions against any uprising of the citizens, 
or inroads from the country, the patriots manifested such 
indomitable spirit, and such persistent fidelity to their 
principles, that the royal authorities, civil and military., 
much against their inclination, felt, like Falstaff, that " the 
better part of valor was discretion." 

6. They knew full well that it would be unwise to at- 
tempt to prevent a gathering on the 5th of March; but 
it was "given out" that it would be at the price of his 
life for any man to speak of the Massacre, and that any 
unfavorable reflection upon the King and royal family 
would be promptly recognized by the military. 

7. But the people cared not; the meeting should be held; 
the oration should be delivered, and by some one, too, who 
would not quail before the enemies of his country. The 
post of honor was the post of danger. Warren coveted, 
asked for it. Samuel Adams, the incorruptible patriot, 
was chairman of the appointing committee ; and the friend- 
ship of these men was like that of David and Jonathan. 
Warren had given the oration once before when it was less 
hazardous; and, as he desired, he was now appointed when 
there was real peril. 



A REVOLUTIONARY HERO IN THE PULPIT. 215 

8. The meeting organized in Faneuil Hall, — Samuel 
Adams, in gray tie-wig, and suit of dark red, presiding. 
A few items of business were transacted, but the crowd 
could not get within the walls, and the meeting was ad- 
journed, to meet at the Old South at half past eleven 
o'clock the same forenoon. 

9. In the mean time the enthusiastic and expectant 
populace left the Hall and area around it, and hurriedly 
pressed toward the Old South; and quickly "the Sanctu- 
ary of Freedom " was filled, and hundreds stood around 
the porches and in the streets. 

10. The pulpit, high and conspicuous, was draped in 
black, and within it stood the selectmen, with Adams, 
Hancock, and other fearless leaders. Forty British sol- 
diers in uniform occupied the front seats and the pulpit 
stairs to intimidate the patriots, — a hopeless task ! 

11. A concerted plan to break up the meeting ludicrously 
failed. An ensign was to give a signal to the soldiers by 
throwing an egg at Warren in the pulpit ; but on his way 
to the meeting-house he fell, dislocated his knee, broke the 
egg. and the scheme was frustrated. 

12. The vast audience anxiously waited for the orator, 
and the minutes seemed hours. But he came not ; and 
there was mingled apprehension and impatience. It needed 
but a hasty word, or indiscreet movement, to bring on a 
collision between the people and the troops. The very 
presence of the soldiers irritated the assembly ; and Adams 
afterwards said, " I am persuaded that, had it not been for 
the danger of precipitating a crisis, not a man of them 
would have been spared." 

13. At last a " single horse chair" came up the street, 
and stopped at the door of the apothecary's shop which 
stood just opposite the Old South. Warren alighted ; and, 
followed by a servant, went in and robed himself in what 
one of the journals of the day called a " Ciceronian toga." 
He could not easily enter at the door of the meeting-house, 
by reason of the crowd, and it is scarcely probable that he 



216 THE FIFTH KEADER. 

could have reached the pulpit in safety. But the intrepid 
orator did not flinch. A ladder was placed at the window 
back of the pulpit, and, calmly ascending, with his " toga " 
flowing, he stepped from the upper round into the sacred 
desk, and stood before the audience. 

14. Everett thus portrays him : " Amiable, accomplished, 
prudent, energetic, eloquent, brave, he united the graces 
of a manly beauty to a lion heart, a sound mind, a safe 
judgment, and a firmness of purpose which nothing could 
shake. He was a powerful orator, because he was a true 
man, and struggled for man's highest rights ; a patriot, in 
whom the flush of youth and the grace and dignity of 
manhood were combined, stood armed in the sanctuary of 
God, to animate and encourage the sons of liberty, and to 
hurl defiance at their oppressors." 

15. It was an audience to be honored by every lover of 
human rights, to be feared by every one who would trample 
on those rights. It " consisted mainly of the actors in 
the public meetings of preceding years, — the men who had 
opposed the Eevenue Acts, had protested against military 
rule, had summoned the Convention of 1768, had de- 
manded the removal of the troops, had organized Commit- 
tees of Correspondence, had destroyed the tea, and had 
resisted the Regulating Act." Such a gathering was not 
to be trifled with, and even the soldiers who were present 
to intimidate, themselves felt ill at ease. 

16. The silence was oppressive, the interest intense ; but 
quickly the firm tone of the speaker broke the spell, and 
then came the oration, noble, fearless, patriotic, inspiriting. 
The previous threats, the presence of the soldiers, had no 
effect save to emphasize his thrilling sentences ; and the 
mutual relations of England and the Colonies, the dangers 
and duties of the hour, were told with trumpet tongue. 

" He dared to speak what some scarce dared to think." 

17. The audience was enthusiastic, while on the part of 
the soldiers there was an attempt to disturb and break up 



A REVOLUTIONARY HERO IN THE PULPIT. 217 

the meeting. Once, in the course of a pointed paragraph, 
a British officer, seated on the pulpit stairs, held up one of 
his hands with several bullets in the open palm. Warren's 
quick eye noticed the action, and his white handkerchief, 
as if by chance, gracefully dropped upon them and con- 
cealed the ominous sight. 

18. The oration closed, the vast crowd slowly dispersed; 
but the events of that day affected all the future of Ameri- 
ca. " Such an hour," says Knapp, " has seldom happened 
in the history of man, and is not surpassed in the history of 
nations. The thunders of Demosthenes rolled at a distance 
from Philip and his host ; and Tully poured the fiercest tor- 
rent of invective when Catiline was at a distance, and his 
dagger no longer to be feared; but "Warren's speech was 
made to proud oppressors resting on their arms, whose er- 
rand it was to overawe, and whose business it was to fight." 

19. Bostonians long since ceased to observe the 5th of 
March with public services ; but to-day, and for all time, 
the city and the nation, nay more, the cause of liberty 
throughout the world, do, and will, owe a debt of gratitude 
to Warren, Adams, Hancock, and their noble companions, 
who led the Colonies to independence. 

Samuel Burnham. 



EXERCISE. 

1. The streets were crowded with an anxious throng. 

2. Soldiers in scarlet uniform Trent hurriedly by. 

3. The unfortunate affray in King Street was ~kept in mind. 

4. Each year intensified the animosity to British rule. 

5. The authorities scorned conciliatory measures. 

6. The patriots manifested an indomitable spirit. 

7. The enthusiastic populace left the hall. 

8. British soldiers occupied the front seats, to intimidate the patriots. 
9 The presence of the soldiers irritated the assembly. 

10. A concerted plan to break up the meeting ludicrously failed. 

11. An officer dislocated hi? knee, and the scheme was frustrated. 

12. ^Varren dropped his handkerchief and concealed the ominous 

sight. [Sign of evil.] 

13. The oration closed, the vast crowd dispersed. 

14 Such an hour is not surpassed in the history of nations. 



218 THE FIFTH READER. 

LXXXIX. — NOTHING TO WEAR. 



O LADIES, dear ladies, the next sunny day 
Please trundle your hoops just out of Broadway, 
From its whirl and its bustle, its fashion and pride, 
And the temples of Trade which tower on each side, 
To the alleys and lanes where Misfortune and Guilt 
Their children have gathered, their city have built ; 
Where Hunger and Vice, like twin beasts of prey, 

Have hunted their victims to gloom and despair. 
Raise the rich, dainty dress, and the fine broidered skirt 
Pick your delicate way through the dampness and dirt ; 

Grope through the dark dens, climb the rickety stair 
To the garret, where wretches, the young and the old, 
Half starved, and half naked, lie crouched from the cold ! 

ii. 

See those skeleton limbs, those frost-bitten feet, 

All bleeding and bruised by the stones of the street ; 

Hear the sharp cry of childhood, the deep groans that swell 

From the poor dying creature who writhes on the floor ; 
Hear the curses that sound like Hope's dying farewell, 

As you sicken and shudder and fly from the door ; 
Then home to your wardrobes, and say, if you dare, 
Spoiled children of Fashion, you 've nothing to wear. 

in. 

And 0, if perchance there should be a sphere 
Where all is made right which so puzzles us here ; 
Where the glare, and the glitter, and tinsel of Time 
Fade and die in the light of that region sublime ; 
Where the soul, disenchanted of flesh and of sense, 
Unscreened by its trappings, and shows, and pretense, 
Must be clothed, for the life and the service above, 
With purity, truth, faith, meekness, and love ; 
daughters of Earth ! foolish virgins, beware ! 
Lest in that upper realm you have nothing to wear ! 

W. A. Butler. 



THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON. 219 

XC. — TSU BATTLE OF LEXINGTON. 

THE last stars were vanishing from night, when the 
foremost party of British soldiers, led by Pitcairn, 
a major of marines, was discovered, advancing quickly and 
in silence. Alarm-guns were fired, and the drums beat, 
not a call to village husbandmen only, but the reveille 
to humanity. Less than seventy, perhaps less than sixty, 
obeyed the summons, and, in sight of half as many boys 
and unarmed men, were paraded in two ranks, a few rods 
north of the meeting-house. 

2. How often in that building had they, with renewed 
professions of faith, looked up to God as the stay of their 
fathers, and the protector of their privileges ! How often, 
on that village green, hard by the burial-place of their fore- 
fathers, had they pledged themselves to each other to com- 
bat manfully for their birthright inheritance of Liberty ! 

3. There they now stood, side by side, under the provin- 
cial banner, with arms in their hands, silent and fearless, 
willing to tight for their privileges, scrupulous not to begin 
civil war, and as yet unsuspicious of immediate danger. 
The ground on which they trod was the altar of Freedom, 
and they were to furnish its victims. 

4. The British van, hearing the drum and the alarm- 
guns, halted to load; the remaining companies came up; 
and at half an hour before sunrise the advance party hur- 
ried forward at double-quick time, almost upon a run, 
closely followed by the grenadiers. Pitcairn rode in front ; 
and when within five or six rods of the minute-men, cried 
out, "Disperse, ye villains ! ye rebels, disperse ! Lay down 
your arms ! why don't you lay down your -arms and dis- 
perse ? " 

5. The main part of the countrymen stood motionless in 
the ranks, witnesses against aggression, — too few to resist, 
too brave to fly. At this Pitcairn discharged a pistol, and 
with a loud voice cried, K Fire ! " The order was instantly 
followed, first by a few 7 guns, which did no execution, and 



220 THE FIFTH READER. 

then by a heavy, close, and deadly discharge of mus- 
ketry. 

6. In the disparity of numbers, the common was a field 
of murder, not of battle ; Parker, captain of the militia and 
alarm-men, therefore ordered his men to disperse. Then, 
and not till then, did a few of them, on their own impulse, 
return the British fire. These random shots of fugitives or 
dying men did no harm, except that Pitcairn's horse was 
perhaps grazed, and a private of the Tenth Light Infantry 
was touched slightly in the leg. 

7. Day came in all the beauty of an early spring. The 
trees were budding ; the grass growing rankly a full month 
before the season ; the bluebird and the robin gladdening 
the genial season, and calling forth the beams of the sun, 
which on that morning shone with the warmth of summer ; 
but distress and horror gathered over the inhabitants of the 
peaceful town. There, on the green, lay in death the gray- 
haired and the young ; the grassy field was red " with the 
innocent blood of their brethren slain," crying unto God 
for vengeance from the ground. 

8. Seven of the men of Lexington were killed, nine 
wounded, — a quarter* part of those who stood in arms on 
the green. These are the village heroes, who were more 
than of noble blood, proving by their spirit that they were 
of a race divine. They gave their lives in testimony to the 
rights of mankind ; bequeathing to their country an assur- 
ance of success in the mighty struggle which they began. 
Their names are had in grateful remembrance ; and the ex- 
panding millions of their countrymen renew and multiply 
their praise from generation to generation. Bancroft. 



EXERCISE. 

1. A party of soldiers was discovered, advancing quickly and in silence. 

2. The drams beat the reveille (pronounced re-val'ya). [Signal to 
arouse.] 

3. Less than seventy men obeyed the summons. 

4. They pledged themselves to combat manfully for liberty. 

5. They stood side by. side under the provincial banner. 



DAVID AND GOLIATH. 221 

XCL — DAVID AND GOLIATH. 

(~^\ OLIATH. Where is the mighty man of war, who dares 

VJT Accept the challenge of Philistia's chief? 

What victor king, what general drenched in blood, 

Claims this high privilege 1 What are his rights % 

What proud credentials does the boaster bring, 

To prove his claim 1 What cities laid in ashes, 

What ruined provinces, what slaughtered realms, 

Has he to boast ] Is his bright armory 

Thick-set with spears, and swords, and coats of mail 

Of vanquished nations, by a single arm 

Subdued 1 Where is the mortal man so bold, 

So much a wretch, so out of love with life, 

To dare the weight of this uplifted spear ] 

David. Behold thy foe ! 

Gol. I see him not. 

Dav. Behold him here ! 

Gol. Say, where % 

Direct my sight. I do not war with boys. 

Dav. I stand prepared ; thy single arm to mine. 

Gol. Why this is mockery, minion ! it may chance 
To cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee : 
But tell me who, of all this numerous host, 
Expects his death from me l Which is the man 
Whom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance ! 

Dav. The election of my sovereign falls on me. 

Gol, On thee ! on thee ! by Dagon, 't is too much ! 
Thou curled minion ! thou a nation's champion ! 
'T would move my mirth at any other time ; 
But trifling 's out of tune. Begone, light boy ! 
And tempt me not too far. 

Dav. I do defy thee, 

Thou foul idolater ! Hast thou not scorned 
The armies of the living God I serve 1 
By me he will avenge upon thy head 
Thy nation's sins and thine. Armed with his name, 
Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foe 
That ever bathed his hostile spear in blood. 

G % oL Now will I meet thee, 



222 THE FIFTH READER. 

Thou insect warrior ! since thou darest me thus : 
Already I behold thy mangled limbs, 
Dissevered each from each, erelong to feed 
The fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well i 
Around my spear I '11 twist thy shining locks, 
And toss in air thy head all gashed with wounds ; 
Thy lips yet quivering with the dire convulsions 
Of recent death ! Art thou not terrified ] 

Dav. No ; 

True courage is not moved by breath of words. 
Courage, the child of Fortitude and Faith, 
Holds its firm empire in the constant soul ; 
And, like the steadfast pole-star, never once 
From the same fixed and faithful point declines. 

Gol. The curses of Philistia's gods be on thee ! 
This fine-drawn speech is made to lengthen out 
That little life thy words pretend to scorn. 

Dav. Ha ! say'st thou so? Come on, then ! Mark us well) 
Thou com'st to me with sword, and spear, and shield ! 
In the dread name of Israel's God I come, — 
The living Lord of Hosts, whom thou defiest ! 
Yet though no shield I bring ; no arms, except 
These five smooth stones I gathered from the brook, 
With such a simple sling as shepherds use ; — 
Yet, all exposed, defenceless as I am, 
The God I serve shall give thee up a prey 
To my victorious arm. I will give thee, 
Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk, 
To glut the carrion kites. Nor thee alone : 
The mangled carcasses of your thick host 
Shall spread the plains of Elah ; till Philistia, 
Through all her trembling tents and flying bands, 
Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed ! 
I dare thee to the trial ! 

Gol. Follow me. 

In this good spear I trust. 

Dav I trust in Heaven ! 

The God of battles stimulates my arm, 

And fires my soul with ardor not its own. rr „ . _ ± , 

J H. More. — Adapted. 



AX OBJECT LESSON. 223 

XCII.-eiJ OBJECT LESSON. 

WE were invited to an Object Lesson, and marched 
off, where we took our seat among the pupils, whose 
age varied between eight years and eleven. The teacher was 
before us. We were all attention. " Hands down." We did 
it. " Hands on knees." Beautifully simultaneous. Very 
good. The lesson began. 

2. " I have something in my pocket," said our teacher. 
" which I am always glad to have there." We were old 
enough and worldly enough to know what he meant ; 
but boys aspire to fill their pockets with so many things 
that, according to their minds, the something in the 
teacher's pocket might be string, apple, knife, brass but- 
ton, top, hardbake, wood for boat, crumbs, jewsharp, gun- 
powder, marbles, slate-pencil, pea-shooter, brad-awl, or, 
perhaps, small cannon. 

3. They attempted no rash guess, therefore, at that stage 
of the problem. " Boys also," our teacher continued, " like 
to have it, though when it gets into a boy's pocket, I be- 
lieve that it is often said to burn a hole there." Instantly 
twenty outstretched hands indicated an idea demanding 
utterance in twenty heads. " If you please, sir, I know 
what it is." " What is it? " " A piece of coal." 

4. You draw your reasoning, my boy, from a part only 
of the information ^iven to you, founding your view of 
things on the last words that sounded in your ears. We 
laughed at you, cheerfully; but when we see the same 
thing done in the world daily by your elders, we do not 
always find it a laughing matter. 

5. " This little thing in my pocket," the teacher con- 
tinued, " has not much power by itself, but when many 
of the same kind come together, they can do great deeds. 
A number of them have assembled lately to build hand- 
some monuments to a great man, whose name you all 
ought to know, for he made the penny loaf bigger than 
it used to be ; — do you know what great man that was ? " 



224 THE FIFTH READER. 

6. Hands were out, answers were ready ; but they ran 
pretty exclusively in favor of Prince Albert and the Duke 
of Wellington. " I am sure/' says the teacher, " you must 
have heard who made all the loaves larger without altering 
the price ; think again, — who was it ? " A confident voice 
hazarded the suggestion that it was " Guy Fawkes," and 
half a dozen voices cried " Guy Fawkes." There are al- 
ways some to follow the absurdest lead, if it be taken 
confidently, in the great as in the little world. 

7. " Guy Fawkes ! nonsense ! Is he to be carried about 
in your heads all through November and December ? " More 
inquiry at length elicited, after a little uncertain hovering 
about Louis Napoleon, the decisive opinion that the man 
who made bread cheaper was Sir Eobert Peel. " If you 
please, sir," said an argumentative little fellow, " he did not 
make the penny loaf bigger." 

8. " Why not ? " " He did not make the loaf ; he made 
the baker make it." The difficulty thus started having been 
properly gone into, and further statement of the riddle hav- 
ing been given, it was at length fairly guessed that the 
teacher's object upon which he meant to talk with us that 
day was a Penny. 

9. We ascertained that it was round, that it was hard, 
that it was brown, that it was heavy, — by which we meant, 
as some of us explained, that it was heavier than the same, 
quantity of water ; that it was stamped on both sides, and 
so forth ; also that it was made of copper. Pence being next 
regarded purely in the light of coppers, the name of the metal, 
" Copper," was written at the top of a blackboard, and a line 
was drawn, along which we were to place a regiment of 
qualities. 

10. We began easily by asserting copper to be hard ; and 
showed our penetration by discovering that, since a penny 
would not do for framing as a spy-glass, it must be opaque. 
Can you spell opaque ? dear, yes ! Twenty hands were 
out ; but we were not all so wise as we imagined. No mat- 
ter ; there are folks of bigger size elsewhere who undertake 



AN OBJECT LESSON. 225 

what they are not able to do. O-p-a-k-e ought to be right; 
but, like not a few things of which we could argue that they 
must be right, it happened to be wrong ; so what was the use 
of talking ? 

11. We heard a little boy in the corner whispering the 
truth, afraid as yet to utter it too boldly. It was not the 
only truth that has appeared first in a whisper. Yet as 
truth is great and shall prevail, it was but fit that we all 
finally determined upon o-p-a-q-u-e ; and so we did ; and 
we all uttered those letters from all corners of the room 
with the more perfect confidence as they grew, by each 
repetition, more familiar to our minds. 

12. A young student in a pinafore, eight years old and 
short for his age, square and solid, who had been sitting on 
the front row, nearly opposite the teacher, was upon his 
legs. He had advanced one or two steps on the floor, hold- 
ing out his hand ; he had thought of another quality, and 
waited to catch Mr. Speakers eye. But our eyes wandered 
among the outstretched hands, and other lips cried, " It is 
malleable " ; so malleable was written on the board. 

13. It was not the word that still lurked in the mind of 
Master Square, who in a solid mood kept his position in 
advance, ready to put forth his suggestion at the earliest 
opportunity. What malleable meant was the question 
over which we were now called upon to hammer, but 
we soon beat the answer out among ourselves ; and then 
w r e spelt the word, and malleability into the bargain. 

14. Master Square uplifted his hand the moment we had 
finished ; but there rose other hands again, and the young 
philosopher, biding his time in sturdy silence, listened 
through the discussion raised as to whether or not copper 
might be called odorous. This debate over, Square was 
again ready ; but an eager little fellow cried that copper 
is tenacious, upon which there was a new quality sub- 
mitted to our notice, which we must discuss, explain, 
and of which the name had to be spelt. 

15. But Master Square's idea had not yet been forestalled, 



226 THE FIFTH READER. 

and he, like copper, ranked tenacity among his qualities. 
At length he caught Mr. Chairman's eye, and said with a 
small voice, " Please, sir, I know a quality." " And what 
is that ? " the teacher asked. Little Square replied, as he 
resumed his seat, " It 's Inorganic." 

16. Here was a bombshell of a word thrown among us by 
this little fellow, but we did not flinch. Inorganic of course 
meant " got no organs," and we all knew what an organ was, 
and what a function was, and what were the grand marks of 
distinction between living and dead matter, and between 
animal and vegetable life. So we went on, with a little 
information about mining, and display of copper ore ; a 
talk about pyrites, and such matters. Three quarters of an 
hour had slipped away. Charles Dickens. 



TLGTll. — THE LIFE-BOAT. 

FIRST VOICE. 

QUICK ! man the life-boat ! See yon bark, 
That drives before the blast ! 
There 's a rock ahead, the fog is dark, 

And the storm comes thick and fast. 
Can human power, in such an hour, 
Avert the doom that 's o'er her 1 
Her main-mast is gone, but she still drives on 
To the fatal reef before her. 

ALL. 

The life-boat ! Alan the life-boat ! 

SECOND VOICE. 

Quick ! man the life-boat ! hark ! the gun 

Booms through the vapory air \ 
And see ! the signal flags are on, 

And speak the ship's despair. 
That forked flash, that pealing crash, 

Seemed from the wave to sweep her : 
She 's on the rbek, with a terrible shock — 

And the wail comes louder and deeper. 

ALL. 

The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! 



THE LIFE-BOAT. 227 

THIRD VOICE. 

Quick ! man the life-boat ! See — the crew 

Gaze on their watery grave : 
Already some, a gallant few, 

Are battling with the wave ; 
And one there stands, and wrings his hands, 

As thoughts of home come o'er him * 
For his wife and child, through the tempest wild, 

He sees on the heights before him. 

i 

ALL. 

The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! 

FOURTH VOICE. 

Speed, speed the life-boat ! Off she goes ! 

And, as they pulled the oar, 
From shore and ship a cheer arose 

That startled ship and shore. 
Life-saving ark ! yon fated bark 

Has human lives within her ; 
And dearer than gold is the wealth untold 

Thou 'It save if thou canst win her. 

ALL. 

On life-boat ! Speed thee, life-boat ! 

FIFTH VOICE. 

Hurrah ! the life-boat dashes on, 

Though darkly the reef may frow n ; 
The rock is there — the ship is gone 

Full twenty fathoms dbwm. 
But, cheered by hope, the seamen cope 

With the billow r s single-handed : 
They are all in the boat ! — hurrah ! they 're afloat ! — 

And now r they are safely landed, 
By the life-boat ! 

FIRST VOICE. 

Cheer the life-boat ! 

ALL. 

Hurrah ! Hurrah for the life-boat ! - 



228 



THE FIFTH IlEADEK. 




XCIY. — THB BOBOLINK 

!HE happiest bird of our 
1 spring, and one that rivals 
the European lark in our estima- 
tion, is the bob-o-lincoln, or bobo- 
link as he is commonly called. He ar- 
rives when Nature is in all her freshness 
and fragrance, — " the rains are over and 
gone, the flowers appear on the earth, the 
time of the singing of birds is come, and 
the voice of the turtle is heard in the land." 

2. The trees are now in their fullest foliage and bright- 
est verdure ; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers 
of the laurel ; the air is perfumed by the sweet-brier and 
wild-rose ; the meadow is enameled with clover-blossoms ; 
while the young apple, the peach, and the plum begin to 
swell, and the cherry to glow, among the green leaves. 

3. This is the chosen season of revelry of the bobolink. 
He comes amidst the pomp and fragrance of the season; 



THE BOBOLINK. 229 

his life seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and 
sunshine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the 
freshest and sweetest meadows ; and is most in song when 
the clover is in blossom. 

4. He perches on the topmost twig of a tree or on some 
long flaunting weed, and as he rises and sinks with the 
breeze, pours forth a succession of rich, tinkling notes, 
crowding one upon another like the outpouring melody of 
the skylark, and possessing the same rapturous character. 

5. Sometimes he pitches from the summit of a tree, be- 
gins his song as he gets upon the wing, and flutters tremu- 
lously down to the earth, as if OA^ercome with ecstasy at 
his own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of his mate ; 
always in full song, as if he would win her by his melody, 
and always with the same appearance of intoxication and 
delight. 

6. Of all the birds of our groves and meadows, the bob- 
olink was the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my path 
in the sweetest weather, and the sweetest season of the 
year, when all nature called to the fields, and the rural feel- 
ings throbbed in every bosom. 

7. Had I been then more versed in poetry, I might have 
addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo : — 

1 ' Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, thy sky is ever clear ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy note, no winter in thy year. 
0, could I fly, I 'd fly with thee ; we 'd make, on joyful wing, 
Our annual visit round the globe, companions of the spring ! " 

8. Further observation and experience have given me a 
different idea of this little feathered voluptuary, which I 
will venture to impart for the benefit of school-boy readers 
who may regard him with the same unqualified envy and 
admiration which I once indulged. 

9. I have shown him only as I saw him at first, in what 
I may call the poetical part of his career, when he in a 
manner devoted himself to elegant pursuits and enjoy- 
ments, and was a bird of music and song and taste and 
sensibility and refinement. 



230 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

10. While this lasted he was sacred from injury ; the 
very school-boy would not fling a stone at him, and the 
merest rustic would pause to listen to his strain. But 
mark the difference. 

11. As the year advances, as the clover-blossoms disap- 
pear, and the spring fades away into summer, he gradually 
gives up his elegant tastes and habits, doffs his poetical 
suit of black, assumes a russet, dusty garb, and sinks to the 
gross enjoyments of common vulgar birds. 

12. His notes no longer vibrate on the ear ; he is stuff- 
ing himself with the seeds of the tall weeds on which lie 
lately swung and chanted so melodiously. He has become 
a gormand. With him now there is nothing like the " joys 
of the table." 

13. In a little while he grows tired of plain, homely 
fare, and is off on a gastronomical tour in quest of foreign 
luxuries. We next hear of him with myriads of his kind, 
banqueting among the reeds of the Delaware, and grown 
corpulent with good feeding. 

14. He has changed his name in traveling. Bob-o- 
lincoln no more, he is the reed-bird now, the much-sought 
titbit of Pennsylvania epicures, the rival in unlucky fame 
of the ortolan ! Wherever he goes, pop ! pop ! pop ! every 
rusty firelock in the country is blazing away. He sees 
his companions falling by thousands and tens of thousands 
around him. 

15. Does he take warning and reform? — Alas, not he; 
Incorrigible epicure ! again he wings his flight. The rice- 
swamps of the South invite him. He gorges himself among 
them almost to bursting ; he can scarcely fly for corpulency. 
He has once more changed his name, and is now the 
famous rice-bird of the Carolinas. 

16. Last stage of his career, — behold him spitted with 
dozens of his corpulent companions, and served up, a 
vaunted dish, on the table of some Southern epicure. 

17. Such is the story of the bobolink, — once spiritual, 
musical, admired, the joy of the meadows, and the favorite 



MARCO BOZZARRIS. 231 

bird of spring ; finally, a gross little sensualist who expiates 
his sensuality in the kitchen. 

18. His story contains a moral worthy the attention of 
all little birds and little boys ; warning them to keep to 
those refined and intellectual pursuits which raised him to 
so high a degree of popularity during the early part of his 
career, but to eschew all tendency to that gross and dis- 
sipated indulg3nce which brought this mistaken little bird 
to an untimely end. w. Irving. 



TLCV. — MARCO BOZZARIS. 

i. 

AT midnight, in his guarded tent, 
The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
When Greece, her knee in snppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power : 
In dreams through camp and court he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror : 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring, — 
Then pressed that monarch's throne, — a king • 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

ii. 
At midnight, in the forest shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, 
True as the steel of their tried blades, 

Heroes in heart and hand. 
There had the Persian thousands stood, 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood 

On old Platsea's day ; 
And now there breathed that haunted air 
The sons of sires who conquered there, 
With arm to strike, and soul to dare, 

As quick, as far, as they. 



232 THE FIFTH READER. 

in. 
An hour passed on, — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke, to hear his sentries shriek, — 
" To arms ! — they come ! — The Greek ! the Greek : 
He woke, to die midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and saber stroke, 

And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band — 
" Strike — till the last armed foe expires ! 
Strike — for your altars and your fires ! 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires ! 

God, and your native land ! " 

IV. 

They fought, like brave men, long and well ; 

They piled the ground with Moslem slain : 
They conquered ; but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

v. 
Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee : there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 

We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 

For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, —♦ 

One of the few, the immortal names, 

That were not born to die I 

Hallcck. 



THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES. 233 

XCYI. — THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES. 

MANY years ago there lived an Emperor who was so 
, excessively fond of grand new clothes that he spent 
all his money upon them, that lie might be very fine. He 
had a coat for every hour of the day ; and just as they say 
of a king, " He is in council/' so they always said of 
him, " The Emperor is in the wardrobe." 

2. In the great city in which he lived it was always very 
merry. Every day came many strangers : one day two rogues 
came ; they gave themselves out as weavers, and declared 
they could weave the finest stuff any one could imagine. 
Not only were their colors and patterns, they said, uncom- 
monly beautiful, but the clothes made of the stuff possessed 
the w T onderful quality that they became invisible to any 
one who was unfit for the office he held, or was incorrigibly 
stupid. 

3. "Those would be capital clothes !" thought the Em- 
peror. " If I wore those, I should be able to find out what 
men in my empire are not fit for the places they have ; I 
could tell the clever from the dunces. Yes, the stuff must 
be woven for me directly." And he gave the two rogues 
a great deal of cash in hand, that they might begin their 
w T ork at once. 

4. As for them, they put up two looms, and pretended to 
be working ; but they had nothing at all on their looms. 
They at once demanded the finest silk and the costliest 
gold; this they put into their own pockets, and worked 
at the empty looms till late at night. 

5 " I should like to know how far they have got on with 
the stuff," thought the Emperor. But he felt quite com- 
fortable when he thought that those who were not fit for 
their offices could not see it. He believed, indeed, that he 
had nothing to fear for himself, but yet he preferred first 
to send some one else to see how matters stood. All the 
people in the city knew what peculiar power the stuff' 
possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or how 
stupid their neighbors w T sre.— 



234 THE FIFTH KEADEH. 

6. " I will send my honest old Minister to the weavers," 
thought the Emperor. "He can judge best how the stuff 
looks, for he has sense, and no one understands his office 
better than he." 

7. Now the good old Minister went out into the hall 
where the two rogues sat working at the empty looms. 

8. " Mercy on us ! " thought the old Minister, and he 
opened his eyes wide. " I cannot see anything at all ! " 
But he did not say this. 

9. Both the rogues begged him to* be so good as to come 
nearer, and asked if he did not approve of the colors and 
the pattern. Then they pointed to the empty loom, and 
the poor old Minister went on opening his eyes ; but he 
could see nothing, for there was nothing to see. 

10. " Mercy ! " thought lie, " can I indeed be so stupid ? 
I never thought that, and not a soul must know it. Am I 
not fit for my office ? No, it will never do for me to tell 
that I could not see the stuff." 

11. "Don't you say anything to it?" asked one, as he 
went on weaving. 

12. " 0, it is charming, — quite enchanting ! " answered the 
old Minister, as he peered through his spectacles. " What 
a fine pattern, and what colors ! Yes, I shall tell the 
Emperor that I am very much pleased with it," 

13. " Well, we are glad of that," said both the weavers ; 
and then they named the colors, and explained the strange 
pattern. The old Minister listened attentively, that he 
might be able to repeat it when the Emperor came. And 
he did so. 

14. Now the rogues asked for more money and silk and 
gold, which they declared they wanted for weaving. They 
put all into their own pockets, and not a thread was put 
upon the loom ; they continued to work at the empty frames 
as before. 

15. The Emperor soon sent again, despatching another 
honest officer of the court, to see how the weaving was 
going on, and if the stuff would soon be ready. He fared 



THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES. 235 

just like the first : he looked and looked, but, as there was 
nothing to he seen, he could see nothing. 

16. " Is not that a pretty piece of stuff? " asked the two 
rogues ; and they displayed and explained the handsome 
pattern, which was not there at all. 

17. "I am not stupid !" thought the man; "it must be 
my good office, for which I am not fit. It is funny enough, 
but I must not let it be noticed." And so he praised the 
stuff which he did not see, and expressed his pleasure at the 
beautiful colors and charming pattern. " Yes, it is enchant- 
ing," he told the Emperor. 

18. All the people in the town were talking of the gor- 
geous stuff. The Emperor wished to see it himself while it 
was still upon the loom. With a crowd of chosen men, 
among whom were also the two honest statesmen who had 
already been there, he went to the two cunning rogues, who 
were now weaving with might and main without fiber or 
thread. 

19. " Is not that splendid ? " said the two statesmen, who 
had already been there once. " Does not your Majesty re- 
mark the pattern and the colors ? " And they pointed to 
the empty loom, for they thought that the others could see 
the stuff. 

20. " What 's this ? " thought the Emperor. " I can see 
nothing at all ! That is terrible ! Am I stupid ? Am I 
not fit to be Emperor ? That would be the most dreadful 
thing that could happen to me. 0, it is very pretty ! " he 
said aloud. " It has our highest approbation." And he 
nodded in a contented way, for he w T ould not say that he 
saw nothing. 

21. The whole suite whom he had with him looked 
and looked, and saw nothing, any more than the rest; 
but, like the Emperor, they said, " That is pretty ! " and 
counseled him to wear the splendid new clothes for the 
first time at the great procession that was presently to 
take place. 

22. " It is splendid, — excellent ! " went from mouth to 



236 THE FIFTH READER. 

mouth. On all sides there seemed to be general rejoicing, 
and the Emperor gave the rogues the title of Imperial 
Court Weavers. 

23. The whole night before the morning on which the 
procession was to take place the rogues were up, and kept 
more than sixteen candles burning. The people could see 
that they were hard at work, completing the Emperor's 
new clothes. They pretended to take the stuff down from 
the loom ; they made cuts in the air with great scissors ; 
they sewed with needles without thread ; and at last they 
said, " Now the clothes are ready ! " 

24. The Emperor came himself with his noblest cavaliers ; 
and the two rogues lifted up one arm as if they were hold- 
ing something, and said, " See ! here are the trousers ! here is 
the coat ! here is the cloak ! " and so on. " It is as light as 
a spider's web. One would think he had nothing on ; but 
that is just the beauty of it." 

25. " Yes," said all the cavaliers, admiringly. 

26. " Will your Imperial Majesty please to condescend 
to take off your clothes ? " said the rogues ; " then we will 
put on you the new clothes here in front of the great 
mirror." 

27. The Emperor took off his clothes, and the rogues 
pretended to put on him each new garment as it was 
ready; and the Emperor turned round and round before 
the mirror. 

28. " 0, how well you look ! how capitally they lit ! " 
said all. " What a pattern ! what colors ! That is a splen- 
did dress ! " 

29. " They are standing outside with the canopy which is 
to be borne above your Majesty in the procession!" an- 
nounced the head-master of the ceremonies. 

30. "Well, I am ready," replied the Emperor. "Does it 
not suit me well ? " And then he turned again to the mir- 
ror, for he wanted it to appear as if he contemplated his 
adornment with great interest. 

31. The two chamberlains, who were to carry the train, 



BIRDS AND BEES. 237 

stooped down with their hands toward the floor, just as if 
they were picking up the mantle ; then they pretended to 
be holding something in the air. They did not dare to let 
it be noticed that they saw nothing. 

32. So the Emperor went in procession under the rich 
canopy, and every one in the streets said, " How incom- 
parable are the Emperor's new clothes ! what a train he 
has to his mantle ! how it fits him ! " Xo clothes of the 
Emperors had ever had such a success as these. 

33. "But he has nothing on ! " a little child cried out at 
last. 

34. " Just hear what that innocent says ! " said the 
father ; and one whispered to another what the child had 
said. 

35. " But he has nothing on ! " said the whole people at 
length. That touched the Emperor, for it seemed to him 
that they were right ; but he thought within himself, " I 
must go through with the procession." And so he held 
himself a little higher, and the chamberlains held on 
tighter than ever, and carried the train which did not 

exist at all. Hans Christian Andersen. 



XCVIL — BIRDS AND BEES. 

i. 

XLOVE to see the little goldfinch pluck 
The groundsel's feathered seed, and twit, and twit ; 
And, soon in bower of apple-blossoms perched, 
Trim his gay suit, and pay us with a song. 
I would not hold him prisoner for the world. 

ii. 
The chimney-haunting swallow, too, my eye 
And ear well pleases. I delight to see 
How suddenly he skims the glassy pool, 
How quaintly dips, and with a bullet's speed 
Whisks by. I love to be awake, and hear 
His morning song twittered to dawning day. 



238 THE FIFTH READER. 

ill. 
But most of all, it wins my admiration 
To view the structure of this little work, 
A bird's-nest. Mark it well, within, without. 
No tool had he that wrought, no knife to cut, 
No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert, 
No glue to join ; his little beak was all, — 
And yet how neatly finished ! What nice hand, 
With every implement and means of art, 
And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot, 
Could make me such another % 

IV. 

Mark the bee ; 
She, too, an artist is, — a cunning artist, 
Who at the roof begins her golden work, 
And builds without foundation. How she toils, 
And still from bed to bed, from flower to flower, 
Travels the livelong day ! Ye idle drones, 
Who rather pilfer than your bread obtain 
By honest means like these, behold and learn 
How grand, how fair, how honorable it is 
To live by industry ! The busy tribes 
Of bees, so emulous, are daily fed, 
Because they daily toil. And bounteous Heaven, 
Still to the diligent and active good, 
Their very labor makes the cause of health. 

Hurdis. 









XCVIII. — RETUBN OF BRITISH FUGITIVES, 

1782. 

I VENTURE to prophesy there are those now living 
wlio will see this favored land amongst the most pow- 
erful on earth, — able, sir, to take care of herself, without 
resorting to that policy which is always so dangerous, 
though sometimes unavoidable, of calling in foreign aid. 

2. Yes, sir, they will see her great in arts and in arms, 
— her golden harvests waving over fields of immeasurable 



RETURN OF BRITISH FUGITIVES. 239 

extent, her commerce penetrating the most distant seas, 
and her cannon silencing the vain boasts of those who now 
proudly affect to rule the waves. 

3. But, sir, you must have men, — you cannot get along 
without them. Those heavy forests of valuable timber 
under which your lands are groaning must be cleared 
away. Those vast riches which cover the face of your soil, 
as well as those which lie hid in its bosom, are to be de- 
veloped and gathered only by the skill and enterprise of 
men. 

4. Your timber, sir, must be worked up into ships, to 
transport the productions of the soil from which it has 
been cleared. Then you must have commercial men and 
commercial capital, to take off your productions, and find 
the best markets for them abroad. Your great want, sir, is 
the want of men ; and these you must have, and will haA^e 
speedily, if you are wise. 

5. Do you ask how you are to get them ? Open your 
doors, sir, and they will come in ! The population of the 
Old World is full to overflowing. That population is 
ground, too, by the oppressions of the governments under 
which they live. Sir, they are already standing on tiptoe 
upon their native shores*, and looking to your coasts with a 
wistful and longing eye. 

6. They see here a land blessed with natural and po- 
litical advantages, which are not equaled by those ,of 
any other country upon earth, — a land on which a gra- 
cious Providence hath emptied the horn of abundance, — 
a land over which Peace hath now stretched forth her 
white wings, and where Content and Plenty lie down at 
every door. 

7. Sir, they see something still more attractive than all 
this. They see a land in which Liberty hath taken up her 
abode, — that Liberty whom they had considered as a fabled 
goddess, existing only in the fancies of poets. They see 
here a real divinity, — her altars rising on every hand, 
throughout these happy States ; her glories chanted by 



240 THE FIFTH READEK. 

three millions of tongues/ and the whole region smiling 
under her blessed influence. 

8. Sir, let but this, our celestial goddess, Liberty, stretch 
forth her fair hand towards the people of the Old World, — 
tell them to come, and bid them welcome, — and you will 
see them pouring in from the North, from the South, from 
the East, and from the West. Your wilderness will be 
cleared and settled, your deserts will smile, your ranks will 
be filled, and you will soon be in a condition to defy the 
powers of any adversary. 

9. But gentlemen object to any accession from Great 
Britain, and particularly to the return of the British 
refugees. Sir, I feel no objection to the return of those 
deluded people. They have, to be sure, mistaken their own 
interests most wofully ; and most wofully have they suf- 
fered the punishment due to their offenses. 

10. But the relations which we bear to them, and to 
their native country, are now changed. Their king hath 
acknowledged our independence ; the quarrel is over, peace 
hath returned, and found us a free people. Let us have the 
magnanimity, sir, to lay aside our antipathies and prejudices, 
and consider the subject in a political light. 

11. Those are an enterprising, moneyed people. They 
will be serviceable in taking off the surplus produce of 
our lands, and supplying us with necessaries, during the 
infant state of our manufactures. Even if they be inim- 
ical to us in point of feeling and principle, I can see no 
objection, in a political view, in making them tributary to 
our advantage. 

o 

12. And as I have no prejudices to prevent my mak- 
ing this use of them, so, sir, I have no fear of any mis- 
chief that th-ey can do us. Afraid of them ! — What, sir, 
shall we, who have laid the proud British lion at our 
feet, now be afraid of his whelps ? 

Patrick Henry. 



THE WATCHER ON THE TOWER. 241 

XCIH. — THE WATCHER OK THE TOWER 

TRAVELER. 

" ~TXT~HAT dost thou see, lone watcher on the tower r ( 

W Is the day breaking] comes the wished -for hour? 
Tell us the signs, and stretch abroad thy hand, 
If the bright morning dawns upon the land." 

WATCHER. 

" The stars are clear above me, scarcely one 

Has dimmed its rays in reverence to the sun ; 

But yet I see on the horizon's verge, 

Some fair, faint streaks, as if the light would surge-. * ? 

TRAVELER. 

" And is that all, watcher on the tower 1 
Look forth again • it must be near the hour. 
Dost thou not see the snowy mountain copes, 
And the green woods beneath them on the slo .« ' 

WATCHER. 

" A mist envelops them ; I cannot trace 

Their outline ; but the day comes on apace, 

The clouds roll up in gold and amber flakes. 

And all the stars grow dim. The moTrdng breaks." 

TRAVELER. 

" We thank thee, lonely watcher on the tower ; 
But look again ; and tell us. hour by hour, 
All thou behold est ; many of us die 
Ere the day conies ; 0, gine them a reply ! " 

WATCHER. 

" I hope, but cannot tell. I hear a song, 
Vivid as day itself, and clear and strong, 
As of a lark — young prophet of the noon — 
Pouring in sunlight his seraphic tune." 

TRAVELER. 

" What doth he say, watcher on the tower '? 

Is he a prophet ] Doth the dawning hour 

Inspire his music 1 Is his chant sublime, 

Filled with the glories of the future time ] " 
16 



242 THE FIFTH READER. 

WATCHER. 

" He prophesies ; — his heart is full ; his lay 
Tells of the brightness of a peaceful day, — 
A day not cloudless, nor devoid of storm, 
But sunny for the most, and clear and warm." 

TRAVELER. 

" We thank thee, watcher on the lonely tower, 
For all thou tellest. Sings he of an hour 
When Error shall decay, and Truth grow strong, 
And Right shall rule supreme, and vanquish Wrong ? " 

WATCHER. 

" He sings of brotherhood, and joy, and peace, 
Of days when jealousies and hate shall cease ; 
When war shall die, and man's progressive mind 
Soar as unfettered as its God designed." 

TRAVELER. 

" Well done ! thou watcher on the lonely tower! 
Is the day breaking 1 dawns the happy hour ? 
We pine to see it ; tell us, yet again, 
If the broad daylight breaks upon the plain ? " 

WATCHER. 

" It breaks, it comes ; the misty shadows fly ; 
A rosy radiance gleams upon the sky ; 
The mountain-tops reflect it calm and clear ; 
The plain is yet in shade, but day is near." 



CHORUS OF VOICES. 

The day has come, the hour draws nigh, 

We hear the coming car ; 
Send forth the glad, exulting cry, 

Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! 
From every hill, by every sea, 
In shouts proclaim the great decree, 
" All chains are burst, all men are free ! '' 

Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 243 



C. — THE CRICKET OK THE HEARTH 

THE Kettle began it ! Don't tell me what Mrs. Peery- 
bingle said. I know better. Mrs. Peerybingle may 
leave it on record to the end of time that she could n't say 
which of them began itj but I say the Kettle did. I ought 
to know, I hope ! The Kettle began it, full five minutes by 
the little waxy-faced Dutch clock in the corner, before the 
Cricket uttered a chirp. 

2. Why, I am not naturally positive. Every one knows 
that I wouldn't set my own opinion against the opinion of 
Mrs. Peerybingle, unless I were quite sure, on any account 
whatever. Nothing should induce me. But this is a ques- 
tion of fact. And the fact is, that the Kettle began it, at 
least five minutes before the Cricket gave any sign of being 
in existence. Contradict me, and I '11 say ten. 

3. Let me narrate exactly how it happened. I should 
have proceeded to do so, in my very first word, but for this 
plain consideration, — if I am to tell a story I must begin 
at the beginning ; and how is it possible to begin at the 
beoinnino- without beginning at the Kettle ? 

4. It appears as if there were a sort of match, or trial 
of skill, you must understand, between the Kettle and the 
Cricket. And this is what led to it, and how it came 
about. 

5. Mrs. Peerybingle, going out into the raw twilight 
and clicking over the wet stones in a pair of pattens that 
worked innumerable rough impressions of the first propo- 
sition in Euclid all about the yard, — Mrs. Peerybingle 
filled the kettle at the water-butt. Presently returning, 
less the pattens (and a good deal less, for they were tall, 
and Mrs. Peerybingle was but short), she set the kettle 
on the fire. 

6. In doing which she lost her temper, or mislaid it for 
an instant ; for the water, being uncomfortably cold, and 
in that slippy, slushy, sleety sort of state wherein it seems 
to penetrate through every kind of substance, patten-rings 



244 THE FIFTH KEADER. 

included, had laid hold of Mrs. Peerybingle's toes, and 
even splashed her stockings. 

7. Besides, the Kettle was aggravating and obstinate. 
It would n't allow itself to be adjusted on the top bar ; it 
would n't hear of accommodating itself kindly to the knobs 
of coal; it would lean forward with a drunken air, and 
dribble, a very idiot of a Kettle, on the hearth. It was 
quarrelsome, and hissed and spluttered morosely at the fire.< 

8. To sum up all, the lid, resisting Mrs. Peerybingle's 
fingers, first of all turned topsy-turvy, and then with an 
ingenious pertinacity deserving of a better cause, dived 
sideways in, — down to the very bottom of the Kettle. 
And the hull of the Eoyal George has never made half 
the monstrous resistance to coming out of the water, 
which the lid of that kettle employed against Mrs. Peeiy- 
bingle, before she got it up again. 

9. It looked sullen and pig-headed enough, even then ; 
carrying its handle with an air of defiance, and cocking its 
spout pertly and mockingly at Mrs. Peerybingle, as if it, 
said, " I won't boil. Nothing shall induce me ! " 

10. Now it was, you observe, that the Kettle began to 
spend the evening. Now it was, that the Kettle, growing- 
mellow and musical, began to have irrepressible gurglings 
in its throat, and to indulge in short vocal snorts, which it 
checked in the bud, as if it had n't quite made up its mind 
yet to be good company. Now it was, that after two or 
three such vain attempts to stifle its convivial sentiments, it 
threw off all moroseness, all reserve, and burst into a 
stream of song so cosey and hilarious, as never maudlin 
nightingale yet formed the least idea of. 

11. And here, if you like, the Cricket did chime in with 
a chirrup, chirrup, chirrup of such magnitude, by way of 
chorus, — with a voice so astoundingly disproportionate to 
its size as compared with the Kettle (size ! you could n't see 
it !) that if it had then and there burst itself like an over- 
charged gun, if it had fallen a victim on the spot, and 
chirruped' its little body into fifty pieces, it would have 



THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 245 

seemed a natural and inevitable consequence, for which it 
had expressly labored. 

12. There was all the excitement of a race about it. 
Chirp, chirp, chirp ! Cricket a mile ahead. Hum, hum, 
hum — in — m ! Kettle making play in the distance, like a 
great top. Chirp, chirp, chirp ! Cricket round the corner. 
Hum, hum, hum — m — m ! Kettle sticking to him in his own 
way ; no idea of giving in. Chirp, chirp, chirp ! Cricket . 
fresher than ever. Hum, hum, hum — m — m ! Kettle slow 
and steady. Chirp, chirp, chirp ! Cricket going in to 
finish him. Hum, hum, hum — m — m ! Kettle not to be 
finished. Until at last, they got so jumbled together, in 
the hurry-skurry, helter-skelter of the match, that whether 
the Kettle chirped and the Cricket hummed, or the Cricket 
chirped and the Kettle hummed, or they both chirped and 
both hummed, it would have taken a clearer head than 
yours or mine to decide with anything like certainty. 

13. But of this there is no doubt, that the Kettle and 
the Cricket, at one and the same moment, and by some 
power of amalgamation best known to themselves, sent 
each his fireside song of comfort streaming into a ray of 
the candle that shone out through the window, and a long- 
way down the lane. And this light, bursting on a certain 
person who, on the instant, approached towards it through 
the gloom, expressed the whole thing to him, literally in a 
twinkling, and cried, Welcome home, old fellow ! Welcome 

home, my boy ! Dickens, abridged. 

EXERCISE. 

1. Let me narrate exactly how it happened. 

2. I should have proceeded to do so, but for this plain consider* 
ation. [Reason.] 

3. She went clicking over the wet stones in a pair of pattens 
[Wooden shoes or clogs standing on iron rings.] 

4. The lid turned topsy-turvy, and then with an ingenious perti- 
nacity dived in. [Artful obstinacy.] 

5. It looked sullen and pig-headed enough. 

6. The kettle burst into a song so cosey and hilarious as never 
maudlin nightingale sung. [Intoxicated.] 



246 THE FIFTH READER. 

CI. — THE KEEPING OF THE BRIDGE. 

i. 

OUT spake the Consul roundly : 
" The bridge must straight go down , 
For, since Janic'ulum is lost, 

Naught else can save the town." 
Then out spake brave Hora'tius, 

The Captain of the Gate : 
" To every man upon this earth 

Death cometh soon or late. 
And how can man die better 

Than facing fearful odds, 
For the ashes of his fathers, 

And the temples of his gods? 

ii. 

" Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, 

With all the speed you may ; 
I, with two more to help me, 

Will hold the foe in play. 
In yon straight path a thousand 

May well be stopped by three. 
Now, who will stand on either hand, 

And keep the bridge with me ? " 

in. 
Then out spake Spu'rius Lar'tius, — 

xl Ram'nian proud was he : 
" Lo, 1 will stand on thy right hand, 

And keep the bridge with thee." 
And out spake strong Hermin'ius, — 

Of Tatian blood was he : 
" I w 7 ill abide on thy left side, 

And keep the bridge with thee." 

IV. 

" Horatius," quoth the Consul, 

" As thou say'st, so let it be." 
And straight against that great array 

Forth went the dauntless three. 



THE KEEPING OF THE BRIDGE. 247 

For Romans, in Home's quarrel, 

Spared neither land nor gold, 
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, 

In the brave days of old. 

v. 
The three stood calm and silent. 

And looked upon the foes, 
And a great shout of laughter 

From all the vanguard rose. 
But soon Etruria's noblest 

Felt their hearts sink to see 
On the earth the bloody corpses, 

In the path the dauntless three . ; 

VI. 

Meanwhile the ax and lever 

Have manfully been plied, 
And now the bridge hangs tottering 

Above the boiling tide. 
" Come back, come back, Hora'tius ! " 

Loud cried the Fathers all ; 
" Back, Lar this ! back, Hermin'ius ! 

Back, ere the ruin fall ! " 

VII. 

Back darted Spu'rius Lar'tius ; 

Herminius darted back; 
And, as they passed, beneath their feet 

They felt the timbers crack. 
But when they turned their faces, 

And on the farther shore 
Saw brave Horatius stand alone, 

They would have crossed once more. 

VIII. 

But, with a crash like thunder, 

Fell every loosened beam, 
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck 

Lay right athwart the stream ; 



248 THE FIFTH READER 

And a long shout of triumph 
Rose from the walls of Rome, 

As to the highest turret-tops 
Was splashed the yellow foam. 

IX. 

Alone stood brave Horatius, 

But constant still in mind ; 
Thrice thirty thousand foes before, 

And the broad flood behind. 
" Down with him ! " cried false Sextus.. 

With a smile on his pale face. 
" Now yield thee ! " cried Lars Por' sena, 

" Now yield thee to our grace." 

x. 

Round turned he, as not deigning 

Those craven ranks to see ; 
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, 

To Sextus naught spake he ; 
But he saw on Palati'nus 

The white porch of his home ; 
And he spake to the noble river 

That rolls by the towers of Rome *. — 

XI. 

" Tiber ! Father Tiber ! 

To whom the Romans pray ! 
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, 

Take thou in charge this day ! " 
So he spake, and, speaking, sheathed 

The good sword by his side, 
And, with his harness on his back, 

Plunged headlong in the tide. 

XII. 

No sound of joy or sorrow 
Was heard from either bank ; 

But friends and foes, in dumb surprise. 

With parted lips and straining eyes. 
Stood gazing where he sank ; 



THE KEEPING OF THE BRIDGE. 249 

And when above the surges 

They saw his crest appear, 
All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, 
And even the ranks of Tuscany 

Could scarce forbear to cheer. 

XIII. 

" Out on him ! " quoth false Sextus ; 

" Will not the villain drown ? 
But for this stay, ere close of day 

We should have sacked the town ! " 
" Heaven help him ! " quoth Lars Por'sena. 

"And bring him safe to shore ; 
For such a gallant feat of arms 

Was never seen before." 

XIV. 

And now the ground he touches, 

Now on dry earth he stands ; 
Now round him throng the Fathers, 

To press his gory hands ; 
And now, with shouts and clapping, 

And noise of weeping loud, 
He enters through the River-Gate, 

Borne by the joyous crowd. 

Lord Macaulay. 



EXERCISE. 

1. Straight against that great array forth went the dauntless three 

2. A great shout of laughter from all the vanguard rose. 

3. Now the bridge hangs tottering above the boiling tide. 

4. The mighty wreck lay right athwart the stream. 

5. The yellow foam was splashed to the tops of the highest turrets 

6. He turned round, as not deigning to see those craven ranks. 

7. With his harness on his back he plunged headlong in the tide. 

8. Friends and foes in dumb surprise stood gazing. 

9. They saw his crest appear above the surges. 

10. All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry. 

11. The ranks of Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer. 

12. We should have sacked the town, but for this stay. 

13. The Fathers throng around him to press his gory hands. 



250 THE FIFTH READER. 



CII. — JBIBDS. 



WE love birds. When the first soft days of spring 
come in all their gentle sweetness, and woo us 
with their warmth, and soothe us with their smile, then 
come the birds. With us ' they, too, rejoice that winter's 
reign (and snow) is ended. No one of the seasons that 
come to " rule the varied year " abdicates his throne more 
to his subjects' joy than Winter. 

2. How pleasant are the early hours of a day in spring I 
The air is laden with the perfect perfume of a thousand 
flowers and leaves and buds. And then, besides the 
pleasure of seeing jocund day go through that difficult gym- 
nastic feat, described by Shakespeare, of standing " tiptoe 
on the misty mountain- tops," we have a glorious morning 
concert, to which we have a season ticket. 

3. Such music ! It seems the pure outpouring of the 
greatest gratitude to Him who made the morn so beauti- 
ful, so full of joy and light. It is the expression of most 
perfect praise, in ecstasy of song. Yes, indeed, we love 
birds ! 

4. There is a deal of pleasure as well as profit to be 
derived from studying the habits and the character of birds. 
Nor is the study burdensome. Of all the lower orders of 
creation, as they frequent most freely the haunts and 
homes of men, so they approach us nearest in intelligence. 
They have their labors and amusements, their conjugal 
relations, and, like us, they build with taste and skill their 
houses ; they have society, moreover, and the opera. In 
very many things they are our equals, in some, our superi- 
ors ; and what in other animals at best is only instinct, in 
birds is almost reason. 

5. Among the first returning tourists from the south, in 
spring, are these pleasant little people, the bluebird, martin, 
and wren. They have particular confidence in man. Nor 
is their confidence misplaced ; for everybody hails with joy 
these harbingers of spring. Their company is peculiarly 






BIRDS. 251 

agreeable, and they seem to know it ; for every year they 
come again to occupy the boxes, or perchance old hats, 
which were put up for them, and in them they build their 
nests, and there they live rent free ; yet not exactly so, for 
they pay us with their notes. 

6. Sometimes these little people have a deal of difficulty 
among themselves about these habitations. The martins 
come, and find the bluebirds have taken all these places, 
and there is a disturbance directly. After some consider- 
able scolding, and twitting on facts, the martins take pos- 
session of a certain portion of the pigeon-cote, and keep it 
too, — for not a pigeon dare go near them, — while the 
smaller wrens content themselves with some spare corner 
of the portico, where they forthwith proceed to build their 
houses, with all the architectural skill derived from their 
great namesake, the builder of St. Paul's.* 

7. There is a spice of waggish mischief about the wren 
somewhat amusing. Often when the bluebird has left his 
house, and gone to market or down town, the w T ren peeps 
in, and, finding no one there, proceeds to amuse himself by 
pulling out the straws and feathers in the nest ; but should 
perchance the bluebird come in sight, the wren remembers 
that there is something very interesting going on around 
the corner of the barn, that demands his immediate atten- 
tion. 

8. These birds — the bluebird, martin, and the wren, 
together with the swallows (barn and chimney), and " hon- 
est robin " — are half domesticated. They love to live 
near man. The bluebird and the robin are the only two 
among them who appear to have paid much attention to 
the cultivation of their vocal powers. They salute the 
morning with sweet songs. The wren and other small 
birds are in the garden, breakfasting on worms, or, as we 
sometimes express it, " getting their grub." 

9. The martin, meanwhile, listens to the concert, as a 

* Sir Christopher Wren was the architect of St. Paul's Cathedral, London. 



252 THE FIFTH READER. 

critic, or as one of the audience ; for he sits up in his pri- 
vate box, now and then uttering an approving note, as if 
of applause. Indeed, the martin is not very musical. 
Sometimes, in the bosom of his family, when he feels very 
social, he takes up his pipe, and then essays a song. But 
he never gets beyond the first few notes of " Hi Betty 
Martin," and then goes off on tiptoe. 

10. But here we have a jolly little fellow, who makes 
up in sociability what he lacks in song. The small house- 
sparrow, or, as he is generally known, the " chippin bird," 
comes to our very doors. He hops along the piazza, gath- 
ering " crumbs of comfort " and of bread, and knows that 
not a soul within the house, not even that "unfeeling 
school-boy," would harm a feather of his tail. He keeps a 
careful eye, however, on the cat ; for he is perfectly aware 
that she would consider him only a swallow, and he does 
not like to lose his identity. 

11. Every farmer hates the crow, and we must acknowl- 
edge he is not a very lovable bird. He has neither beauty 
nor song ; for his eternal " caw, caw ! " is a note renewed so 
often as to be at a decided discount, Nor has he civility 
of manners ; and his ideas concerning private property are 
extremely vague. Yet of all the bird tribe, he is far the 
most intelligent. Nor is he a hypocrite. There he is, 
on that old tree by the roadside, clothed in a sable suit, 
and as you go by, looks demure, interesting, and melan- 
choly. 

12. But should there be a gun in the bottom of the 
wagon, though it is covered carefully with a bundle of 
straw, a blanket over that, and a large fat boy sitting on 
top of all, he knows it is there, and, trusty sentinel, alarms 
the whole community of crows in the region round about ; 
and away they wing, " over the hills and far away." " Caw, 
caw, caw ! " You did n't catch him that time. He is very 
well aware that you intend to kill him — if you can. He 
just wants to see you try it, — that 's all. 



GIVE ME THE PEOPLE. 253 

CIIL — GIVE ME THE PEOPLE. 

i. 

SOME love the glow of outward show, 
The shine of wealth, and try to win it : 
The house to me may lowly be, 
If I but like the people in it. 
What 's all the gold that glitters cold, 

When linked to hard and haughty feeling? 
Whate'er we 're told, the noblest gold 
Is truth of heart and honest dealing ! 

ii. 
A humble roof may give us proof 

That simple flowers are often fairest ; 
And trees whose bark is hard and dark 

May yield us fruit, and bloom the rarest ! 
There 's worth as sure among the poor 

As e'er adorned the highest station ; 
And minds as just as theirs, we trust, 

Whose claim is but of rank's creation ! 
Then let them seek, whose minds are weak, 

Mere fashion's smile, and try to win it : 
The house to me may lowly be, 

If I but like the people in it ! 

Charles Swain. — Adapted. 



CIV.— HEROISM OF A MINER. 

IX a certain Cornish mine, two miners, deep down in 
the shaft, were engaged in putting in a shot for blast- 
ing. They had completed their affair, and were about to 
give the signal for being hoisted up. One at a time was 
all the assistant at the top could manage, and the second 
was to kindle the match, and then mount with all speed. 

2. Now it chanced, while they were still below, that one 
of them thought the match too long. He accordingly tried 
to break it shorter. Taking a couple of stones, a flat and 
a sharp, he succeeded in cutting it the required length ; 
but, horrible, to relate, he kindled it at the same time, while 



254 THE FIFTH EEADER. 

both were still below ! Both shouted vehemently to the 
man at the windlass ; both sprang at the basket. The 
windlass man could not move it with both in it. 

3. Here was a moment for poor Miner Jack and Miner 
Will ! Instant, horrible death hangs over them. Will 
generously resigns himself. " Go aloft, Jack ; sit down ; 
away ! in one minute I shall be in Heaven !" 

4. Jack bounds aloft, the explosion instantly follows, 
bruising his face as he looks over ; but he is safe above 
ground. 

5. And what of poor Will ? Descending eagerly, they 
find him, as if by miracle, buried under rocks which had 
arched themselves over him. He is little injured. He too 
is brought up safe. Well done, brave Will ! 

Tliomas Carlyle. 



CY. — GLAD CHIMES. 
i. 

TWAS sabbath on the sea, — a summer sea, — 
The nerveless winds were resting in their caves, 
And, gently swaying with a motion free, 

Our good bark yielded to the breathing waves. 

ii. 
A weary voyage of waiting and unrest 

Lay all behind us, gladly overcome ; 
Before us, towering in the distant West, 

Rose the broad land of happiness and home. 

in. 
A welcome sight to onr impatient eyes, — 

Tearful and eager at the vexed delay, — 
Reading no promise in the cloudless skies 

That bent above us on that sabbath day. 

IV. 

No sound disturbed the scene from shore or sea, 
Save as some bird, with light and joyous wing. 

Dashed swiftly by with twittering note of glee, 
As if in mockery of our loitering. 



GLAD CHIMES. 255 



Our need was prayer ; our supplicating heart 
Poured forth its longings in a fond apj)eal ; 

At length we felt the welcome breezes start, 
And heard the water gurgle at our keel. 

VI. 

Then cheerful grew the sea, the rippling blue 
Gleamed gayly in the sun's effulgent beam ; 

We felt the springs of hope and joy renew, 
As love and home inspired our waking dream. 

VII. 

The waning day was merging into night, 

When, by the river's sheltering banks embraced, 

We saw the fading pencils of the light, 

As on the shore fantastic shapes they traced. 

VIII. 

Anon above the trees, whose misty cones 

Seemed slumbrous in the shades that round them fell, 
Swept suddenly, with grand exultant tones, 

The peal sonorous of an evening bell ! 

IX. 

Nor near, nor far, but through the twilight dim, 

As if from Heaven angelic voices sung, 
Tuned to the theme of some celestial hymn, 

That Echo broadly on the silence flung ! 

x. 

" Praise God ! " " Praise God ! " rang out the cadence clear 

That smote the holy stillness of the hour, 
And our rapt souls, entranced the sound to hear, 

Yielded in adoration to its power. 

XI. 

Thus may it be when life's long voyage is o'er — 
Our anchor dropped in the celestial West — 

That we shall hear from Heaven's sweet bells outpour 
Glad chimes of welcome to its peaceful rest. 

B. P. Shillaber. 



256 






THE FIFTH READER. 




VV1. — SN0W POWER. 

IF any one should ask what is the most harmless and 
innocent thing on earth, he might be answered, a snow- 
flake. And yet, in its own way of exerting itself, it stands 
among the foremost powers on earth. When it fills the air, 
the sun cannot shine, the eye becomes powerless ; neither 
hunter nor pilot, guide nor watchman, are any better than 
blind men. The eagle and the mole are on a level of vision. 
2. All the kings of the earth could not send forth an 
edict to mankind, saying, "Let labor cease." But this 
white-plumed light-infantry clears out the fields, drives men 
home from the highway, and puts half a continent under 
ban. It is a despiser of old landmarks and \erj quietly 
unites all properties, covering up fences, hiding paths and 
roads, and doing in one day a work which the engineers 
and laborers of the whole earth could not do in years I 



SNOW POWER. 257 

3. But let the wind arise, (itself but the movement of soft, 
invisible particles of air,) and how is this peaceful seem- 
ing of snow-flakes changed ! In an instant the air roves. 
There is fury and spite in the atmosphere. It pelts you, 
and searches you out in every fold and seam of your gar- 
ments. It comes without search-warrant through eacli crack 
and crevice of your house. It pours over the hills, and 
lurks down in valleys, or roads, or cuts, until in a night it 
has intrenched itself formidably against the most expert 
human strength. For now, lying in drifts huge and wide, 
it bids defiance to engine and engineer. 

4. All these thoughts, and a great many others, we had 
leisure to spin, last night, while we lay within two miles of 
Morristown, 1ST. J., beating away at a half-mile inclined 
plane heaped with snow. We look upon the engine as the 
symbol of human skill and power. In its summer rush 
along a dry track it would seem literally invincible. It 
comes roaring up towards you ; it sweeps gigantically past 
you, with the wild scream of its whistle, waving the bushes 
and rustling the grass and flowers on either side, and filling 
the air with clouds of smoke and dust ; and you look upon 
its roaring course, gradually dying out of sight and hearing, 
as if some supernatural development of Might had passed 
by you in a vision. 

5. But now this wonderful thing is as tame as a wounded 
bird ; all its spirit is gone. Xo blow is struck. The snow 
puts forth no power. It simply lies still. That is enough. 
The laboring engine groans and pushes, backs out and 
plunges in again, retreats and rushes again. 

6. It becomes entangled. The snow is everywhere. It 
is before it and behind it. It penetrates the whole engine, 
is sucked up in the draft, whirls in sheets into the en- 
gine-room ; torments the cumbered wheels, clogs the joints, 
and, packing down under the drivers, it fairly lifts the pon- 
derous engine off from its feet and strands it across the 
track ! Well done, snow ! That was a notable victory ! 
Thou mayest well consent now to yield to scraper and 
snow-Dlow t 



258 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

7. However, it was not our engine that got off the track, 
% but another one beyond Morristown. Ours could not get 
off nor get along. It could only push and stop. The 
pushing was a failure, the stopping was very effectual. It 
kept us till nine o'clock before we reached our destina- 
tion. 

, 8. In the morning, returning, we gloried over the last 
night's struggle ; and shot down the inclined plane with a 
comfortable velocity, up which we had vainly toiled in the 
darkness and snow but so few hours before. 

9. In a few weeks another silent force will come forth. 
And a noiseless battle will ensue, in which this now vic- 
torious army of flakes shall be itself vanquished. A rain- 
drop is stronger than a snow-flake. One by one, the armed 
drops will dissolve the crystals and let forth the spirit im- 
prisoned in them. Descending quickly into the earth, the 
drops shall search the roots and give their breasts to their 
myriad mouths. The bud shall open its eye. The leaf 
shall lift up its head. The grass shall w T ave its spear, and 
the forests hang out their banners. 

10. How significant is this silent, gradual, but irresistible 
power of rain and snow, of moral truth in this world ! 
" For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, 
and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and 
maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the 
sower and bread to the eater ; so shall my word be that 
goeth forth out of my mouth : it shall not return unto me 
void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it 
shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it." 

U. W. Beeclier. 



EXERCISE. 

1. All the kings of the earth could not send forth the edict. 

2. We look upon the engine as the symbol of human skill and 
power. 

3. Now this wonderful thing is tame as a wounded bird. 

4. We shot down the inclined plane with velocity. 

5. In a few weeks another silent force will come forth. 

fi. The victorious army of flakes shall itself be vanquished. 



THE BATTLE OF BUNKER'S HILL. 259 

CVII. — THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 

i. 

IT was a starry night in June, the air was soft and still, 
When the " minute-men " from Cambridge came, and gath- 
ered on the hill ; 
Beneath us lay the sleeping town, around us frowned the fleet, 
But the pulse of freemen, not of slaves, within our bosoms beat ; 
And every heart rose high with hope, as fearlessly we said, 
" We will be numbered with the free, or numbered with the 
dead!' 1 . 

ii. 

" Bring out the line to mark the trench, and stretch it on the 

sward ! " 
The trench is marked, the tools are brought, we utter not a word 
But stack our guns, then fall to work with mattock and with 

spade, 
A thousand men with sinewy arms, and not a sound is made ; 
So still were we, the stars beneath, that scarce a whisper fell ; 
We heard the red-coat's musket click, and heard him cry, " All 's 

well ! " 

in. 

See how the morn is breaking ! the red is in the sky ! 

The mist is creeping from the stream that floats in silence by ; 

The Lively 's hull looms through the fog, and they our works 
have spied, 

For the ruddy flash and round-shot part in thunder from hei 
side ; 

And the Falcon and the Cerberus make every bosom thrill, 

With gun and shell, and drum and bell, and boatswain's whis- 
tle shrill ; 

But deep and wider grows the trench, as spade and mattock ply, 

For we have to cope with fearful odds, and the time is drawing 
nigh ! 

IV. 

Up with the pine-tree banner ! Our gallant Prescott stands 
Amid the plunging shells and shot, and plants it with his hands ; 
Up with the shout ! for Putxam comes upon his reeking bay, 
With bloody spur and foaming bit, in haste to join the fray. 



200 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

v. 
But thou whose soul is glowing in the summer of thy years, 
Unvanquishable Warren, thou, the youngest of thy peers, 
Wert born and bred, and shaped and made, to act a patriot's 

part, 
And dear to us thy presence is as heart's blood to the heart ! 

VI. 

Hark ! from the town a trumpet ! The barges at the wharf 
Are crowded with the living freight ; and now they 're pushing 

off; 
With clash and glitter, trump and drum, in all* its bright array, 
Behold the splendid sacrifice move slowly o'er the bay ! 
And still and still the barges fill, and still across the deep, 
Like thunder clouds along the sky, the hostile transports sweep. 

VII. 

And now they 're forming at the Point ; and now the lines ad- 
vance : 

We see beneath the sultry sun their polished bayonets glance ; 

We hear anear the throbbing drum, the bugle-challenge ring ; 

Quick bursts and loud the flashing cloud, and rolls from wing 
to wing ; 

But on the height our bulwark stands, tremendous in its gloom, — 

As sullen as a tropic sky, and silent as a tomb. 

VIII. 

And so we waited till we saw, at scarce ten rifles' length, 
The old vindictive Saxon spite, in all its stubborn strength ; 
When sudden, flash on flash, around the jagged rampart burst 
From every gun the livid light upon the foe accursed. 
Then quailed a monarch's might before a free-born people's ire ; 
Then drank the sward the veteran's life, where swept the yeo- 
man's fire. 

IX. 

Then, staggered by the shot, we saw their serried columns reel, 
And fall, as falls the bearded rye beneath the reaper's steel ; 
And then arose a mighty shout that might have waked the 

dead, — 
u Hurrah ! they run ! the field is won ! Hurrah ! the foe is 

fled J" " 



the battle of bunkek'S hill 261 

x\nd every man hath dropped his gun to elutch a neighbor's 

hand, 
As his heart kept praying all the while for home and native land. 

x. 
Thrice on that day we stood the shock of thrice a thousand foes, 
And thrice that day within our lines the shout of victory rose ; 
And though our swift fire slackened then, and, reddening in the 

skies, 
We saw from Charlestown's roofs and walls the flamy columns 

rise, 
Yet while we had a cartridge left, we still maintained the fight, 
Nor gained the foe one foot of ground upon that blood-stained 

height. 

XI. 

What though for us no laurels bloom, and o'er the nameless 

brave 
No sculptured trophy, scroll, nor hatch records a warrior's grave! 
What though the day to us was lost ! — upon that deathless 

page 
The everlasting charter stands for every land and age ! 

XII. 

For man hath broke his felon bonds, and cast them in the dust, 
And claimed his heritage divine, and justified the trust ; 
While through his rifted prison-bars the hues of freedom pour, 
O'er every nation, race, and clime, on every sea and shore, 
Such glories as the patriarch viewed, when, 'mid the darkest 

skies, 
He saw above a ruined world the Bow of Promise rise. 

* F. S. Cozzens. 



EXERCISE. 

1. Stretch the line on the sward, to mark the trench. 

2. We fall to w T ork with mattock and spade. [Pick-ax.] 

3. We have to cope with fearful odds. 

4. The hostile transports sweep across the stream. 

5. Their polished bayonets glance beneath the sultry sun. 

6. No sculptured trophy, scroll, nor hatch, records a warrior's grave 

7. The patriarch saw the Bow of Promise rise above the world- 



262 THE FIFTH READER. 

CVIII. — A MAM OVERBOARD. 

OFF the Azores we were overtaken by a series of severe 
squalls. We were preparing ourselves for the com- 
ing storm, when a man, who was coming down from the last 
reef, slipped as he stepped on the bulwarks, and went over 
backwards into the waves. 

2. In a moment that most terrific of all cries at sea, 
" A man overboard ! a man overboard ! " flew like lightning 
over the ship. I sprang upon the quarter-deck, just as the 
poor fellow, with his " fearful human face," riding the top of 
a billow, fled past. 

3. In an instant all was commotion ; plank after plank 
was cast over for him to seize and sustain himself on, till 
the ship could be put about and the boat lowered. The 
first mate, a bold, fiery fellow, leaped into the boat that 
hung at the side of the quarter-deck, and in a voice so sharp 
and stern that I seem to hear it yet, shouted, " In, men ! in, 
men ! " 

4. But the poor sailors hung back, — the sea was too wild. 
The second mate sprang to the side of the first, and the men, 
ashamed to leave both their officers alone, followed. 

5. " Cut away the lashings ! " exclaimed the officer. The 
knife glanced round the ropes, the boat fell to the water, 
rose on a huge wave far over the deck, and drifted rapidly 
astern. 

6. The brave mate stood erect, the helm in his hand, his 
flashing eye embracing the whole peril in a single glance, and 
his hand bringing the head of the gallant little boat on each 
high sea that otherwise would have swamped her. I watched 
them till nearly two miles astern, when they lay to, to look 
for the lost sailor. 

7. Just then I turned my eyes to the southern horizon, 
and saw a squall, blacker and heavier than any we had be- 
fore encountered, rushing down upon us. The captain also 
saw it, and was terribly excited. 

8. He called for a flag, and, springing into the shmnds, 



A MAN OVERBOARD. 263 

waved it for their return. The gallant fellows obeyed the 
signal, and pulled for the ship. 

9. But it was slow work, for the head of the boat had to 
be laid on to almost every wave. It was now growing dark, 
and if the squall should strike the boat before it reached 
the vessel, there was no hope for it; it would either go 
down at once or drift away into the surrounding darkness, 
to struggle out the night as it could. 

10. I shall never forget that scene. All along the south- 
ern horizon, between the black water and the blacker 
heavens, was a white streak of tossing foam. Nearer and 
clearer every moment it boiled and roared on its track. 

11. I could not look steadily on that gallant little crew, 
now settling the question of life and death to themselves, 
and perhaps to us, who would be left almost unmanned in 
the middle of the Atlantic, and encompassed by a storm. 

12. The sea w r as making fast, and yet that frail thing 
rode on it like a duck. Every time she sank away she car- 
ried my heart down with her ; and when she remained a 
longer time than usual, I would think it was all over, and 
cover my eyes with horror ; the next moment she would 
appear between us and the black rolling cloud, literally 
covered with foam and spray. 

13. The captain knew that a few minutes more would 
decide the fate of his officers and crew ; he called for his 
trumpet, and, springing up the ratlines, shouted out over 
the roar of the blast and waves, " Pull away, my brave 
boys ; the squall is coming ! give way, my hearties ! " and 
the bold fellows did " give way " with a will. 

14. I could see their ashen oars quiver as they rose from 
the water, while the lifelike boat sprang to their strokes 
down the billows, like a panther on a leap. On she came, 
and on came the blast. It was the wildest struo'de I ever 
gazed on ; but the gallant little boat conquered. 

15. 0, how my heart leaped when she at length snot 
round the stern, and, rising on a wave far above our lee- 
quarter, shook the water from her drenched head, as if in 
delight to find her shelter ag&inl 



264 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

16. The chains were fastened, and I never pulled with 
such right good- will on a rope as on the one that brought 
that boat up the vessel's side. As the heads of the crew 
appeared over the bulwarks, I could have hugged the brave 
fellows in transport. 

17. As they stepped on deck, not a question was asked, 
no report given ; but " Forward, men ! " broke from the 
captain's lips. The vessel was trimmed to meet the blast, 
and we were again bounding on our way. 

18. If that squall had pursued the course of all former 
ones, we must have lost our crew ; but when nearest the 
boat (and. it seemed to me the foam was breaking not a 
hundred rods off), the wind suddenly veered, and held the 
cloud in check, so that it swung round close to our bows. 

13. The poor sailor was gone ; he came not back again. 
It was his birthday (he Avas twenty-five years old), and, 
alas ! it was his death-day. 

20. We saw him no more, and a gloom fell on the whole 
ship. There were few of us in all, and we felt his loss. It 
was a wild and dark night ; death had been among us, and 
had left us with sad and serious hearts. 

21. As I walked to the stern, and looked back on the 
foam and tumult of the vessel's wake, in which the poor 
sailor had disappeared, I instinctively murmured the mari- 
ner's hymn, closing with the sincere prayer, — 

" sailor boy, sailor boy, peace to thy soul ! " 

Headley. 

EXERCISE. 

1. The mate's flashing eye embraced the whole peril in a single 
glance. 

2. We were in the middle of the Atlantic, encompassed by a storm. 

3. Springing up the ratlines he shouted out over the roar of the 
blast. 

4. I could see their ashen oars quiver as they rose from the water. 

5. 0, how my heart leaped when she shot round the stern. 

6. The heads of the crew appeared over the bulwarks. 

7. The wind suddenly veered and held the cloud in check. 

8. I instinctively murmured the mariner's hymn. 



DOUGLAS AND MARMION 265 

CI?L. — DOUGLAS AND MARMION* 

i. 

THE train from out the castle drew ; 
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu. 
" Though something I might plain," he said, 
" Of cold respect to stranger guest, 
Sent hither by your king's behest, 

While in Tantallon's towers I stayed, 
Part we in friendship from your land, 
And, noble Earl, receive my hand." 

ii. 
But Douglas round him drew his cloak, 
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : — 
" My manors, halls, and bowers shall still 
Be open, at my sovereign's will, 
To each one whom he lists, howe'er 
Unmeet to be the owner's peer. 
My castles are my king's alone, 
From turret to foundation stone, — 
The hand of Douglas is his own, 
And never shall, in friendly grasp, 
The hand of such as Marmion clasp." 

in. 
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 
And shook his very frame for ire ; 

And " This to me ! " he said, — 
" An 't were not for thy hoary beard, 
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared 

To cleave the Douglas' head ! 
And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer, 
He who does England's message here, 
Although the meanest in her state, 
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate. 

IV. 

And, Douglas, more I tell thee here 
Even in thy pitch of pride. 



266 THE FIFTH READER. 

Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, 

I tell thee, thou 'rt defied ! 
And if thou saidst, I am not peer 
To any Lord in Scotland here, 
Lowland or Highland, far or near, 

Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! " 

v. 
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 
O'ercame the ashen hue of age ; 
Fierce he broke forth : " And dar'st thou then 
To beard the lion in his den, 

The Douglas in his hall 1 
And hopest thou hence unscathed to go? — 
No, by Saint Bryde of Both well, no ! — 
Up drawbridge, grooms ! — what, warder, ho ! 

Let the portcullis fall." 

VI. 

Lord Marmion turned, — well was his need, — 

And dashed the rowels in his steed, 

Like arrow thi ough the archway sprung, — 

The ponderous gate behind him rung : 

To pass there was such scanty room, 

The bars, descending, razed his plume. 

VII. 

The steed along the drawbridge flies, 

Just as it trembled on the rise ; 

Not lighter does the swallow skim 

Along the smooth lake's level brim. 

And when Lord Marmion reached his band, 

He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 

And shouts of loud defiance pours, 

And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 

Walter Scoti 



EXERCISE. 

1. I was sent hither by your king's behest. 

2. My manors shall be open to each one whom he lists. 

3. Howe'er unmeet to be the owner's pee* 

4. His very frame shook for ire, 



FIRST GRENADIER OF FRANCE. 267 

CX. — FIRST GRENADIER OF FRANCE. 

FOR many years there was a touching and beautiful 
custom to be witnessed in a certain regiment of 
French grenadiers, which was meant to commemorate the 
heroism of a departed comrade. When the companies 
assembled for parade and the roll was called, there was 
one name to which its owner could not answer, — it was 
that of La Tour d'Auvergne* When it was called, the 
oldest sergeant present stepped a pace forward, and, rais- 
ing his hand to his cap, said proudly, " Died on the 
field of honor." 

2. La Tour d'Auvergne was not unworthy in life the 
honor thus paid him after his death. He was educated 
for the army, which he entered in 1767. He served al- 
ways with distinction, but constantly refused offers of 
promotion, saying that he was only fit for the command 
of a company of grenadiers ; but, finally, the various gren- 
adier companies being united, he found himself in com- 
mand of a body of eight thousand men, while retaining 
only the rank of captain. Hence he was known as the 
first grenadier of France. 

3. When he was forty years of age he went on a visit to 
a friend, in a region that was soon to become the scene of a 
campaign. While there, he was busy in acquainting him- 
self with the country, thinking it not unlikely that this 
knowledge might be of use to him, when he was astonished 
to learn that the war had actually shifted to that quarter. 

4. A regiment of Austrians was pushing on to occupy 
a narrow pass, the possession of which would give them 
an opportunity to prevent an important movement of 
the French which was then on foot. They hoped to sur- 
prise this post, and were moving so rapidly upon it that 
they were not more than two hours distant from the place 
where he was staying, and which they would have to pass 
in their march. 

5. He had no idea of being captured by the enemy in 

* Pronounced La-toor' do -vera. 



268 THE FIFTH READER. 

their advance, and lie at once set off for the pass. He 
knew that it was defended by a stout tower and a garrison 
of thirty men, and he hoped to be able to warn these of 
their danger. 

6. He hastened on, and, arriving there, found the tower in 
a perfect condition. But it had just been vacated by the 
garrison, who, hearing of the approach of the Austrians, 
had fled, leaving their arms, consisting of thirty excellent 
muskets. 

7. La Tour d'Auvergne gnashed his teeth with rage as 
he discovered this. Searching in the building he found 
several boxes of ammunition which the cowards had not 
destroyed. For a moment he was in despair, but then, 
with a grim smile, he began to fasten the main door and 
pile against it such articles as he could find. 

8. When he had done this, he loaded all the guns, and 
placed them, together with a good supply of ammunition, 
under the loop-holes that commanded the road by which 
the enemy must advance. Then he ate heartily of the 
provisions he had brought with him, and sat down to 
wait. He had absolutely formed the heroic resolution 
to defend the tower alone against the enemy. 

9. There were some things in his favor in such an un- 
dertaking. The pass was steep and narrow, and the enemy's 
troops could enter it only in double files, in doing which they 
would be fully exposed to the fire from the tower. The origi- 
nal garrison of thirty men could easily have held it against 
a division, and now one man was about to hold it against a 
regiment. 

10. It was dark when La Tour d'Auvergne reached the 
tower, and he had to wait some time for the enemy. They 
were longer in coming than lie expected, and for a while he 
was tempted to believe they had abandoned the expedi- 
tion. 

11. About midnight, however, his practiced ear caught the 
tramp of feet. Every moment they came nearer, and at last 
he heard them entering the defile. Immediately he dis- 



FIRST GRENADIER OF FRANCE. 269 

charged a couple of muskets into the darkness to warn the 
enemy that he knew of their presence and intentions; then 
he heard the quick, short commands of the officers, and, 
from the sounds, supposed the troops were retiring from 
the pass. 

12. Until the morning lie was undisturbed. The Aus- 
trian commander, feeling assured that the garrison had 
been informed of his movements, and was prepared to re- 
ceive him, saw that he could not surprise the post as he 
had hoped to do, and deemed it prudent to wait till day- 
light before making his attack. 

13. At sunrise he called on the garrison to surrender. 
A grenadier answered the summons. " Say to your com- 
mander," he said, in reply to the messenger, " that this 
garrison will defend this pass to the last extremity." 

14. The officer who had borne the flag of truce retired, 
and in about ten minuted a piece of artillery was brought 
into the pass. In order to bear upon the tower, it had to be 
placed directly in front, and within easy musket range of 
it. Scarcely was it got into position when a rapid fire 
was opened on it from the tower, and continued with such 
marked effect that it was withdrawn after the second dis- 
charge, with a loss of five men. 

15. This was a bad beginning ; so, half an hour after 
the gun was withdrawn, the Austrian colonel ordered an 
assault. 

16. As the troops entered the defile they were received 
with so rapid and accurate a fire, that, when they had passed 
OA'er half the distance they had to traverse, they had lost 
fifteen men. Disheartened by this, they returned to the 
mouth of the defile. 

17. Three more assaults were repulsed in this manner, 
and the enemy by sunset had lost forty-five men, of whom 
ten were killed. 

18. The firing from the tower had been rapid and accurate, 
but the Austrian commander noticed this peculiarity about 
it, — every shot seemed to come from the same place. For 



270 THE FIFTH READER. 

a while this perplexed him, but at last he came to the con- 
clusion that there were a number of loop-holes close together 
in the tower, so constructed as to command the ravine per- 
fectly. 

19. At sunset the last assault was made and repulsed, 
and at dark the Austrian commander sent a second sum- 
mons to the garrison. 

20. This time the answer was favorable. The garrison 
offered to surrender at sunrise the next morning if allowed 
to march out with their arms and return to the army 
unmolested. After some hesitation, the terms were ac- 
cepted. 

21. Meantime La Tour d'Auvergne had passed an anxious 
day in the tower. He had opened the fight with thirty 
loaded muskets, but had not been able to discharge them 
all. He had fired with great rapidity, but with surprising 
accuracy, — for it was well known in the army that he 
never threw away a shot. 

22. He had determined to stand to his post until he 
had accomplished his end, which was to hold the place 
twenty-four hours, in order to allow the French army time 
to complete its maneuver. After that he knew the pass 
would be of no consequence to the enemy. 

23. The next day at sunrise the Austrian troops lined the 
pass in two files, extending from the mouth to the tower, 
leaving a space between them for the garrison to pass 
out. 

24. The heavy door of the tower opened slowly, and in 
a few minutes a bronzed and scarred grenadier, literally 
loaded with muskets, came out and passed down the 
line of troops. He walked with difficulty under his heavy 
load. To the surprise of the Austrians no one followed 
him from the tower. 

25. In astonishment the Austrian Colonel rode up to 
him, and asked in French, why the garrison did not come 
out. 

" I am the garrison, Colonel," said the soldier, proudly. 



THE SUNBEAM. 271 

26. " What ! " exclaimed the Colonel, " do you mean to 
tell me that you alone have held that tower against me ? " 

" 1 have had the honor, Colonel," was the reply. 

27. " What possessed you to make such an attempt, gren- 
adier ? " 

" The honor of France was at stake." 

28. The Colonel gazed at him for a moment with undis- 
guised admiration. Then, raising his cap, he said warmly, 
" Grenadier, I salute you. You have proved yourself the 
bravest of the brave." 

29. The officer caused all the arms which La Tour d'Au- 
vergne could not carry to be collected, and sent them with 
the grenadier into the French lines, together with a note 
relating the wdiole affair. 

30. When the knowledge of it came to the ears of Na- 
poleon, he offered to promote La Tour d'Auvergne, but the 
latter preferred to remain a grenadier. 

31. The brave soldier met his death in an action at 
Aberhausen* in June, 1800, and the simple and express- 
ive scene at roll-call in his regiment was commenced 
and continued by the express command of the Emperor. 



CXI. — THE SUNBEAM. 

i. 

THOU art no lingerer in monarch's hall : 
A joy thou art and a wealth to all ; 
A bearer of hope unto land and sea : 
Sunbeam, what gift hath the world like thee ? 

ii. 
Thou art walking the billows, and ocean smiles ; 
Thou hast touched with glory his thousand isles ; 
Thou hast lit up the ships, and the feathery foam. 
And gladdened the sailor like words from home. 
* Pronounced Ah-ber-how'zen 



272 



THE FIFTH READER. 




III. 



To the solemn depths of the forest shades 
Thou art streaming on through their green arcades. 
And the quivering leaves that have caught thy glow, 
Like fireflies glance to the pools below. 



IV. 



I looked on the mountains : a vapor lay 
Folding their heights in its dark array ; 
Thou breakest forth, and the mist became 
A crown and a mantle of living flame. 



HOME HAPPINESS. 27c 



I looked on the peasant's lowly cot : 
Something of sadness had wrapped the spot ; 
But a gleam of thee on its casement fell, 
And it laughed into beauty at that bright spell. 

VI. 

Sunbeam of summer, what is like thee, 
Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea 1 
One thing is like thee, to mortals given, — 
The faith touching all things with hues of heaven. 

Mrs. Hemans. 



VKXL — HOME HAPPINESS. 



LIKE a thing of the desert, alone in its glee, 
I make a small home seem an empire to me ; 
Like a bird in the forest, whose world is its nest, 
My home is my all, and the center of rest. 
Let Ambition stretch over the world at a stride, 
Let the restless go rolling away with the tide, 
I look on life's pleasures as follies at best, 
And, like sunset, feel calm when I 'm going to rest 



ii. 

I sit by the fire, in the dark winter's night, 

While the cat cleans her face with her foot in delight. 

And the winds all a-cold, with rude clatter and din 

Shake the windows, like robbers who want to come in ; 

Or else, from the cold to be hid and away, 

By the bright burning fire see my children at play, 

Making houses of cards, or a coach of a chair, 

While I sit enjoying their happiness there. 



274 THE FIFTH READER. 

in. 
I walk round the orchard on sweet summer eves, 
And rub the perfume from the black-currant leaves, 
Which, like the geranium, when touched, leave a smell 
That lad's-love and sweet-brier can hardly excel. 
I watch the plants grow, all begemmed with the shower, 
That glitters like pearls in a sunshiny hour, 
And hear the pert robin just whistle a tune, 
To cheer the lone hedger when labor is done. 

IV. 

Joys come like the grass in the fields springing there, 
Without the mere toil of attention and care ; 
They come of themselves, like a star in the sky, 
And the brighter they shine when the cloud passes by. 
I wish but for little, and find it all there, 
Where peace gives its faith to the home of the hare, 
Who would else, overcome by her fears, run away 
From the shade of the flower and the breeze of the day. 

v. 

the out-of-door blessings of leisure for me ! 
Health, riches, and joy, it includes them all three. 
There peace comes to me, — I have faith in her smile, — 
She 's my playmate in leisure, my comfort in toil ; 
There the short pasture-grass hides the lark on its nest, 
Though scarcely so high as the grasshopper's breast ; 
And there its moss-ball hides the wild honey-bee, 

And there joy in plenty grows riches for me. 

VI. 

So I sit on my bench, or enjoy in the shade 
My toil as a pastime, while using the spade ; 
My faney is free in her pleasure to stray, 
Making voyages round the whole world in a day. 

1 gather home-comforts where cares never grew, 

Like manna the heavens rain down with the dew, 

Till I see the tired hedger bend wearily by, 

Then like a tired bird to my corner I fly. 

John Clare. 



DEATH OF LITTLE PAUL. 275 

CXIII. — DEATH OF LITTLE PAUL. 

PAUL had never risen from his little bed. He lay- 
there, listening to the noises in the street, quite tran- 
quilly ; not caring much how time went, but watching it 
and watching everything about him with observing eyes. 

2. When the sunbeams struck into his room through the 
rustling blinds, and quivered on the opposite wall like 
golden water, he knew that evening was coming on, and that 
the sky was red and beautiful. As the reflection died 
away, and a gloom went creeping up the wall, he watched 
it deepen, deepen, deepen into night. Then he thought 
how the long streets were dotted with lamps, and how the 
peaceful stars were shining overhead. 

3. His fancy had a strange tendency to wander to the 
river, which he knew was flowing through the great city ; 
and now he thought how black it was, and how deep it 
would look, reflecting the host of stars, — and more than all, 
how steadily it rolled away to meet the sea. 

4 As it grew later in the night, and footsteps in the 
street became so rare that he could hear them coming, 
count them as they passed, and lose them in the hollow 
distance, he would lie and watch the many-colored rings 
about the candle, and wait patiently for the day. His only 
trouble was, the swift and rapid river. He felt forced, 
sometimes, to try to stop it, — to stem it with his childish 
hands, or choke its way with sand ; and when he saw it 
coming on, resistless, he cried out ! But a word from Flor- 
ence, who was always at his side, restored him to him- 
self ; and, leaning his poor head upon her breast, he told 
Floy of his dream, and smiled. 

5. When day began to dawn again, he watched for the 
sun ; and when its cheerful light began to sparkle in the 
room, he pictured to himself — pictured! he saw — the 
high church-towers up in the morning sky, the town reviv- 
ing, waking, starting into life once more, the river glistening 
as it rolled (but rolling fast as ever), and the country bright 
with dew. 



276 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

6. Familiar sounds and cries came by degrees into the 
street below ; the servants in the house were roused and 
busy ; faces looked in at the door, and voices asked his at- 
tendants softly how he w 7 as. Paul always answered, for 
himself, " I am better. I am a great deal better, thank 

• you ! Tell papa so ! " 

7. By little and little, he got tired of the bustle of the 
day, the noise of carriages and carts, and people passing 
and repassing ; and would fall asleep, or be troubled with a 
restless and uneasy sense again — the child could hardly 
tell whether this w r ere in his sleeping or his w r aking mo- 
ments — of that rushing river. " Why, will it never stop, 
Floy ? " he would sometimes ask her. " It is bearing me 
away, I think ! " 

8. But Floy could always soothe and reassure him ; and 
it was his daily delight to make her lay her head down on 
his pillow and take some rest. 

9. " Now lay me down," he said ; " and, Floy, come close 
to me and let me see you ! " 

10. Sister and brother wound their arms around each 
other, and the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon 
them, locked together. 

11. " How fast the river runs between its banks and the 
rushes, Floy ! But it 's very near the sea. I hear the waves ! 
They always said so ! " 

12. Presently he told her that the motion of the boat 
upon the stream w r as lulling him to rest. How green the 
banks were now, how bright the flow T ers growing on them, 
and how tall the rushes ! Now the boat was out at sea, 
but gliding smoothly on. And now there was a shore 
before him. Who stood on the bank ? — 

13. He put his hands together, as he had been used to 
do at his prayers. He did not remove his arms to do it ; 
but they saw him fold them so, behind her neck. 

14. " Mamma is like you, Floy. I know her by the 
face ! But tell them that the print upon the stairs at 
school is not divine enough. The light about the head is 
shining on me as I cm i " 



EDINBUKGH AFTER FLODDEN. 277 

15. The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and 
nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion! 
The fashion that came in with our first garments, and will 
last unchanged until, our race has run its course, and the 
wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old 
fashion, — Death ! 

16. 0, thank God, all who see it, for that older fashion 
yet, of Immortality ! And look upon us, angels of young 
children, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift 

river bears US to the ocean ! Charles Dickens. 



CXIV . — EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 

i. 

NEWS of battle ! — news of battle ! 
Hark ! 't is ringing down the street ; 
And the archways and the pavement 

Bear the clang of hurrying feet. 
News of battle ! — who hath brought it % 
News of triumph ! — who should bring 
Tidings from our noble army, 

Greetings from our gallant King I 

ii. 
All last night we watched the beacons 

Blazing on the hills afar, 
Each one bearing, as it kindled, 

Message of the opened war. 
All night long the northern streamers 

Shot across the trembling sky : 
Fearful lights, that never beacon 

Save when kings or heroes die. 

in. 
News of battle ! — who hath brought it ] 

All are thronging to the gate ; 
" Warder, — warder ! open quickly ! 

Man, — is this a time to wait 1 " 
And the heavy gates are opened : 



278 THE FIFTH READER. 

Then a murmur long and loud, 
And a cry of fear and wonder 

Bursts from out the bending crowd. 
For they see in battered harness 

Only one hard-stricken man ; 
And his weary steed is wounded, 

And his cheek is pale and wan : 
Spearless hangs a bloody banner 

In his weak and drooping hand — 
What ! can that be Randolph Murray, 

Captain of the city band ? 

IV. 

Round him crush the people, crying, 

" Tell us all, — 0, tell us true ! 
Where are they who went to battle, 

Randolph Murray, sworn to you 1 
Where are they, our brothers — children] 

Have they met the English foe 1 
Why art thou alone, unfollowed ] 

Is it weal or is it woe ] " 
v. 
Like a corpse the grisly warrior 

Looks from out his helm of steel ; 
But no word he speaks in answer, — 

Only with his armed heel 
Chides his weary steed, and onward 

Up the city streets they ride ; 
Fathers, sisters, mothers, children, 

Shrieking, praying by his side. 
"By the God that made thee. Randolph! 

Tell us what mischance hath come." 

Then he lifts his riven banner, 

And the asker's voice is dumb. 
***** 

VI. 

And up then rose the Provost, — 

A brave old man was he, 
Of ancient name, and knightly fame, 

And chivalrous decree. 



EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. 279 

0, woful now was the old man's look, 

And he spake right heavily : 
" Now, Randolph, tell thy tidings, 

However sharp they be ! 
Woe is written on thy visage, 

Death is looking from thy face : 
Speak ! though it be of overthrow, 

It cannot be disgrace ! " 

VII. 

Eight bitter was the agony 

That wrung that soldier proud : 
Thrice did he strive to answer, 

And thrice he groaned aloud. 
Then he gave the riven banner 

To the old man's shaking hand, 
Saying, " That is all I bring ye 

From the bravest of the land ! 
Ay, ye may look upon it, — 

It was guarded well and long, 
By your brothers and your children, 

By the valiant and the strong. 
One by one they fell around it, 

As the archers laid them low, 
Grimly dying, still unconquered, 

With their faces to the foe. 

VIII. 

Ay ! ye may well look upon it, — 

There is more than honor there, 
Else be sure, I had not brought it 

From Jhe field of dark despair. 
Never yet was royal banner 

Steeped in such a costly dye ; 
It hath lain upon a bosom 

Where no other shroud shall lie. 
Sirs ! I charge you, keep it holy, 

Keep it as a sacred thing, 
For the stain ye see upon it 

Was the life-blood of your King ! " 



280 THE FIFTH KEADER. 

IX. 

Woe, woe, and lamentation ! 

What a piteous cry was there ! 
Widows, maidens, mothers, children, 

Shrieking, sobbing in despair ! 

x. 

" the blackest day for Scotland 

That she ever knew before ! 
our King, the good, the noble, 

Shall we see him nevermore ? 
Woe to us, and woe to Scotland ! 

our sons, our sons and men ! 
Surely some have 'scaped the Southron, 

Surely some will come again ] " 
Till the oak that fell last winter 

Shall uprear its shattered stem, 
Wives and mothers of Dunedin, 

Ye may look in vain for them ! 

W. E. Aytoun. 



CXV. — THE BELL OF LIBERTY. 

THE representatives of the people assembled in solemn 
conclave, and long and anxiously surveyed the peril- 
ous ground on which they were treading. To recede was 
now impossible ; to go on seemed fraught with terrible con- 
sequences. The result of the long and fearful conflict that 
must follow was more than doubtful. For twenty days 
Congress was tossed on a sea of perplexity. 

2. At length, Eichard Henry Lee, snaking off the fetters 
that galled his noble spirit, arose on the 7th of June, and 
in a clear, deliberate tone, every accent of which rang to 
the farthest extremity of the silent hall, proposed the fol- 
lowing resolution : " Resolved, That these United Colonies 
are, and ought to be, free and independent States, and all 
political connection between us and the States of Great 
Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved." 



THE BELL OF LIBERTY. 281 

3. John Adams, in whose soul glowed the' burning fut- 
ure, seconded the resolution in a speech so full of impas- 
sioned fervor, thrilling eloquence, and prophetic power 
that Congress was carried away before it, as by a resistless 
wave. The die was cast, and every man was now com- 
pelled to meet the issue. The resolution was finally de- 
ferred till the 1st of July, to allow a committee, appointed 
for that purpose, to draft a Declaration of Independence. 

4. When the day arrived, the Declaration was taken up 
and debated, article by article. The discussion continued 
for three days, and was characterized by great excitement. 
At length, the various sections having been gone through 
with, the next day, July 4th, was appointed for action. 

5. It was soon known throughout the city ; and in the 
morning, before Congress assembled, the streets "were filled 
with excited men, some gathered in groups, engaged in 
eager discussion, and others moving towards the State 
House. All business was forgotten in the momentous 
crisis which the country had now reached. 

6. No sooner had the members taken their seats than the 
multitude gathered in a dense mass around the entrance. 
The bell-man mounted to the belfry, to be ready to pro- 
claim the joyful tidings of freedom as soon as the final 
vote was passed. A bright-eyed boy was stationed below 
to give the signal. 

7. Around the bell, brought from England, had been 
cast more than twenty years before the prophetic motto: 

"Proclaim Liberty throughout all the Land 
unto all the inhabitants thereof." 

Although its loud clang had often sounded over the city, 
the proclamation engraved on its iron lip had never yet 
been spoken aloud. 

8. It was expected that the final vote would be taken 
without delay ; but hour after hour wore on, and no re- 
port came from that mysterious hall where the fate of a 
continent was in suspense. The multitude grew impa* 



282 THE FIFTH READER. 

tient; the old man leaned over the railing, straining his 
eyes downward, till his heart misgave him and hope 
yielded to fear. 

9. But at length, at about two o'clock, the door of the hall 
opened, and a voice exclaimed, " It has passed." The word 
leaped like lightning from lip to lip, followed by huzzas 
that shook the building. The boy-sentinel turned to the 
belfry, clapped his hands, and shouted, " Eing ! ring ! " 

10. The desponding bell-man, electrified into life by the 
joyful news, seized the iron tongue, and hurled it back- 
ward and forward with a clang that startled every heart 
in Philadelphia like a bugle-blast. " Clang ! clang ! " the 
bell of Liberty resounded on higher and clearer, and 
more joyous, blending in its deep and thrilling vibrations, 
and proclaiming in loud and long accents over all the 
land, the motto that encircled it. 

11. Glad messengers caught the tidings as they floated 
out on the air, and sped off in every direction to bear them 
onward. When they reached New York, the bells rang 
out the glorious news, and the excited multitude, surging 
hither and thither, at length gathered around the Bowling 
Green, and, seizing the leaden statue of George III., which 
stood there, tore it into fragments. These were afterwards 
run into bullets, and hurled against his Majesty's troops. 

12. When the Declaration arrived in Boston, the people 
gathered to old Faneuil Hall to hear it read ; and as the 
last sentence fell from the lips of the reader, a loud shou f 
went up, and soon from every fortified height and every 
battery the thunder of cannon re-echoed the joy. 

J. T. Headley. 

EXERCISE. 

1. The representatives assembled in solemn conclave. [Secret council]. 

2. They long and anxiously surveyed the perilous ground. 

3. The result of the conflict that must follow was doubtful 

4. All business was forgotten in the momentous crisis. 

5. The multitude gathered in a dense mass around the entrance. 

6. The desponding bell-man was electrified into life by the joyful news. 
7 Griad messengers sped in every direction to bear the tidings. 



MINOT'S LEDGE. 2feS 

CXVI. —MINOT'S LEDGE. 

i. 

LIKE spectral hounds across the sky 
The white clouds scud before the storm 
And naked in the howling night 
The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form. 
The waves with slippery fingers clutch 
The massive tower, and climb and fall, 
And, muttering, growl with baffled rage 
Their curses on the sturdy wall. 

II. 

Up in the lonely tower he sits, 
The keeper of the crimson hght, — 
Silent and awe-struck does he hear 
The imprecations of the night. 
The white spray beats against the panes 
Like some wet ghost that down the air 
Is hunted by a troop of fiends 
And seeks a shelter anywhere. 

in. 

He prays aloud — the lonely man — 
For every soul that night at sea ; 
But more than all for that brave boy 
Who used to gayly climb his knee, — 
Young Charlie witrThis chestnut hair 
And hazel eyes and laughing lip, — 
u May Heaven look down," the old man cries. 
" Upon my son, and on his ship." 

IV. 

While thus w 7 ith pious heart he prays, 
Far in the distance sounds a boom, — 
He pauses, and again there rings 
That sullen thunder through the room. 
A ship upon the shoals to-night ! 
She cannot hold for one half-hour ; 
But clear the ropes and grappling-hooks. 
And trust in the Almighty Power. 



284 THE FIFTH READER. 



On the drenched gallery he stands 

Striving to pierce the solid night ; 

Across the sea the red-eve throws 

A steady crimson wake of light, 

And where it falls upon the waves 

He sees a human head float by, 

With long drenched curls of chestnut hair, 

And wild but fearless hazel eye. 

VI. 

, Out with the hooks ! One mighty fling ! 
Adown the wind the long rope curls. 
Oh ! will it catch ] Ah ! dread suspense ! 
While the wild ocean wilder whirls. 
A steady pull — It tightens now ! 
0, his old heart will burst with joy, 
As on the slippery rocks he pulls 
The breathing body of his boy. 

VII. 

Still sweep the specters through the sky, 
Still scud the clouds before the storm, 
Still naked in the howling night 
The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form. 
Without, the world is wild with rage, 
Unkenneled demons are abroad ; 
But with the father and the son 
Within, there is the peace of God. 

Fitz- James O'Brien, 



EXERCISE. 

1. The white clouds scud across the sky like spectral hounds. 

2. The waves, with baffled rage, growl their curses on the sturdy wall, 

3. Awe-struck he hears the imprecations of the night 

4. For in the distance sounds a boom. 

5. He stands on the drenched gallery. 

6. He is striving to pierce the solid night. 

7. There is a crimson wulee of light. 

8. He pidls on the slippery rocks the breathing body of his boy. 
- 9, The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form in the howling night 



A SEARCH AFTER HAPPIKESS. 285 

CXVII. — A SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS. 

"~1 TOW happy I'll be to-morrow!" exclaimed little 
j 1 Slycler Downehylle, in anticipation of Christmas 

— ' : O, how happy I shall be to-morrow ! " 

% " Could n't you contrive to be happy a little now ? " 

replied Uncle John, who had learned somewhat to distrust 

anticipation and its gorgeous promises. 

3. " Happy now, Uncle John I " retorted little Slydei 
Downehylle, rather contemptuously, — " happy now^ ! what 
with, I should like to know, — what shall I be happy with 

— now ? Where are the cakes, the candy, the pies, — 
where the hobby-horse that somebody 's going to give me, 

— and all the Christmas gifts ? How I wish to-morrow 
was here ! What a long day, — what a long evening, — 
what a great while I Ve got to sleep !" 

4. Little Slyder Downehylle became quite cross, and 
Uncle John whistled. Twenty-four hours afterwards, little 
Slyder Downehylle was still more cross ; he had been 
happy with candy, with cakes, and with pies, until he was 
very uncomfortable indeed ; he had been happy with toys 
until he had quarreled with his little companions, and 
strewed the room with broken playthings ; he had been 
happy with his hobby-horse until he got a fall. 

5. " 0, what a stupid day ! " said little Slyder Downe- 
hylle. " I wish to-morrow would come, — 1 11 be so happy 
at Aunt Betsy's." 

6. It was always so with the unfortunate Slyder Downe- 
hylle. Throughout life he wanted something to be happy 
with ; and, strangely enough, it universally occurred, that, 
when he had obtained the thing, it did not prove to be 
exactly the thing he wanted. His expectations were never 
realized, and he was, therefore, constantly in a state of 
disappointment. Unlucky Slyder Downehylle ! It was 
deplorable, too, that such should be the case, for Slyder 
Downehylle was anxious to be happy, — he was always 
looking forward to be happy, — for something to be happy 
with 



286 THE FIFTH READEK. 

7. At school, he was always thinking how happy ho 
would be on Saturday afternoon ; but then sometimes it 
rained on Saturday afternoon, or his companions would not 
do as he wished them to do, or it may be that although 
he had toiled hard for pleasure, — and the toil for pleasure 
is often the severest of work, — he returned home weary, 
dispirited, and out of temper. Of course, it was unavoid- 
able that his pleasure should be postponed until some other 
Saturday afternoon. 

8. If Slyder Downehylle went a-fishing, why, a treach- 
erous bank would often give way ; and then — pray who 
can possibly be happy when dripping wet with his clothes 
on ? Nobody but poodles. What felicity is there in losing 
one's shoe in a swamp ? Then, if Slyder Downehylle went 
skating, it not unfrequently happened that he cried with 
cold. What a strange arrangement it is not to have the 
best of skating on the warmest days ! 

9. The young Downehylle, finding that happiness eluded 
his grasp while a boy, made sure of throwing a noose 
over its head when he should be a man. May not a man 
do as he pleases ? — go to bed when he pleases, and get 
up when he pleases ? eat what he pleases, and drink what 
he pleases ? A man is not compelled to learn lessons. All 
his afternoons are Saturday afternoons ; his holidays last 
all the year round. Who would not be a man ? " I want 
to be a man ! " cried Slyder Downehylle, with impatience. 

10. And Slyder Downehylle was a man at last, though, 
on the whole, it must be confessed that he did not derive 
the satisfaction from the circumstance that he had been 
led to expect. 

11. In theorizing on happiness, he thought it was, to 
some degree,. vehicular, — that, like respectability, it was to 
be found in a gig if it were to be found anywhere. So he 
bought him a sulky and a fast trotter, — a mile in twc 
minutes, or thereabouts. What could escape a man who 
followed so rapidly ? 

12. "Aha! that's it!" muttered Slyder Downehylle. 



A SEAECH AFTER HAPPINESS. 287 

as lie tugged at the reins, and went whizzing along the 
turnpike in a cloud of dust, passing everything on the road, 
and spreading consternation among the pigs, the ducks, and 
the chickens. 

13. " Now I 'm happy," said Slyder Downehylle, as he 
stood on the portico of the " Cottage,'' and saw every eye 
fixed with admiration on his establishment, as the boy led 
his horse and sulky through the crowd of vehicles. " That 's 
it at last ! " 

14. "There, — let him go!" said he, tossing a half-dol- 
lar to the hostler's deputy. Mr. Downehylle's sulky flew 
like lightning across the lawn. 

* Splendid ! " ejaculated the spectators. 

The clogs barked ; the colored gentlemen grinned from 
ear to ear. There was quite a sensation at the " Cot- 
tage." 

15. "That's it, at last!" said Slyder Downehylle, tri- 
umphantly. But he forgot that existence, short as it is, 
cannot be crowded all into the exhilarating moment of a 
" start." He wished to shave the gate-post, in his cur- 
ricular enthusiasm, — to astonish the natives with his 
charioteering skill. Mr. Downehylle was out in his cal- 
culation by about the sixteenth part of an inch. He was 
on a lee shore. 

16. A cloud of splinters went up and came down again. 
" There is but a Frenchman the more in Trance," said a 
Bourbon on the restoration. It was also quite evident that 
there was a sulky the less in existence. 

17. "That's not it, after all," murmured Mr. Slyder 
Downehylle, as he was carried into the " Cottage " for sur- 
gical aid. 

18. The bystanders, lately so full of admiration, now 
wisely nodded their heads as if to say, — "We are not sur- 
prised; we thought it would come to this." — Greatness 
always falls when it meets with an upset. 

19. "What could you expect from a fellow that holds 
his elbow so when he drives?" was the general remark. 



288 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

When we are down, every one can see the reason why 
The world is always full of sagacity, after the event. 

20. He was puzzled. What could be the matter ? He 
was a man, a man of cash, — money in both pockets ; but 
yet Slyder Downehylle was not happy, — not particularly 
happy. On the contrary, striking an average, he was, for 
the most part, decidedly miserable. He yawned about all 
the morning ; he was not hungry in the afternoon ; he was 
seldom sleepy at night. Vexatious ! 

21. " There 's something I want," thought Slyder Downe- 
hylle ; " what it is, that 's more than I can tell, but it is 
something to be happy with. What other people get for 
the purpose, that they go grinning about so, I cannot dis- 
cover." 

22. It was not exactly kind in Uncle John and Aunt 
Betsy, though they thought it was, to bequeath their 
savings to Slyder Downehylle. Their legacy perplexed 
him sadly. He discovered, in a very short time, that 
money is not in itself, notwithstanding the fact that it is 
generally known as the " one thing needful," the material 
of happiness. But he was clear in his own mind that this 
was something to be got with money. Still, however, he 
could not find it, — that " something to be happy with," 
— that cake, that candy, that sugar-ice, that hobby-horse. 
When his game was run down, why, it was only a fox, 
after all. 

23. It was in vain that he intermingled his pleasures, 
took them in alternation, over ate in the morning, and 
over drank in the evening, or reversed the process, turning 
the bill of fare upside down. It came all to the same thing 
in the end. 

24. Slyder Downehylle had never tried gambling ; but, 
on the recommendation of his friend, he did try it, and 
thought that he rather liked it. In short, it improved 
upon acquaintance. The " something to be happy with " 
had, to all appearance, been found. But the top of our 
speed brings the end of the race. He who moves most 



A SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS. 289 

rapidly is the soonest at the close of his career. Fortune 
is fickle, and Slyder Downehylle, in Ins zeal to pile enjoy- 
ment upon enjoyment, — to be happy, if possible, with 
several things at a time, — had, unluckily, a habit of drink- 
ing • deep ; and, as his head became warm, the " cool " 
amounts in his pockets melted away. 

25. Slyder Downehylle was now a cashless man; his 
researches after felicity had not only proved unsuccessful, 
but had left him without the means of future progression. 
He was swamped, as it were, in sight of port. 

26. He is sadly emaciated, and in all respects consider- 
ably the worse for wear ; while a hollow cough indicates 
that his physical capabilities have proved inadequate to 
the requirements of his method of employing life, and 
are fast dropping to pieces. Slyder Downehylle is conse- 
quently more miserable than ever. He is troubled with 
doubts. Perhaps he may have proceeded upon an error ; 
perhaps the principle — the high-pressure principle — of 
his action was not the right one. 

27. It may be that excitement is not happiness ; that 
our pleasures are fleeting in proportion to their intensity ; 
that, indeed, if " life be a feast," the amount of satisfaction 
to be derived from it is rather diminished than increased 
by swallowing the viands hastily, and by having a free 
recourse to condiments ; and that a physical economy is as 
wise and as necessary \o well-being as economy of any 
other kind. 

28. He is almost led to suppose that his " something to 
be happy with " is a fallacy ; he never could hold it within 
his grasp ; and he inclines to the belief that a man proba- 
bly does well to have a home in himself, that he may not 
always be compelled to run abroad for recreation, or to 
appeal to his senses to give vivacity to the hour. If it 
were his luck to begin again — But that hollow cough ! 
Our experiences oft reach their climax too late ; yet others 
may learn from the example of Slyder Downehylle. 

^ Joseph Q. Neal. 



290 THE FIFTH READER. 

CXVIII. — BARBARA FRIETCHIE. 



"TT^TP from the meadows rich with corn, 
V_J Clear in the cool September morn, 
The clustered spires of Frederick stand 
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. 

ii. 
Round about them orchards sweep, 
Apple and peach tree fruited deep, 
Fair as the garden of the Lord 
To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, 
On that pleasant morn of the early fall 
When Lee marched over the mountain-wall, - 
Over the mountains winding down, 
Horse and foot, into Frederick town. 

in. 
Forty flags with their silver stars, 
Forty flags with their crimson bars, 
Flapped in the morning wind : the sun 
Of noon looked down, and saw not one. 

IV. 

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, 
Bowed with her threescore years and ten ; 
Bravest of all in Frederick town, 
She took up the flag the men hauled down ; 
In her attic window the staff she set, 
To show that one heart was loyal yet. 

v. 
Up the street came the rebel tread, 
Stonewall Jackson Riding ahead. 
Under his slouched hat left and right 
He glanced : the old flag met his sight. 
" Halt ! " — the dust-brown ranks stood fast. 
" Fire ! " — out blazed the rifle-blast. 
It shivered the window, pane and sash ; 
It rent the banner with seam and sash. 



BARBARA FlilETCHIE. . 291 

VI. 

Quick, as it fell from the broken staff, 
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf ; 
She leaned far out on the window-sill, 
And shook it forth with a royal will. 
" Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, 
But spare your country's flag," she said. 

VII. 

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, 
Over the face of the leader came ; 
The nobler nature within him stirred 
To life at that woman's deed and word, — 
" Who touches a hair of yon gray head 
Dies like a dog ! March on ! " he said. 

VIII. 

All day long through Frederick street 
Sounded the tread of marching feet ; 
All day long that free flag tossed 
Over the heads of the rebel host. 
Ever its torn folds rose and fell 
On the loyal winds that loved it well ; 
And through the hill-gaps sunset light 
Shone over it with a warm good-night. 

IX. 

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, 

And the rebel rides on his raids no more. 

Honor to her ! and let a tear 

Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. 

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, 

Flag of Freedom and Union, wave ! 

Peace and order and beauty draw 

Round thy symbol of light and law ; 

And ever the stars above look down 

On thy stars below in Frederick town ! 

J. G. TVhittier. 



292 THE FIFTH READER. 

CXIX. — MORNING VISITS. 

ONE day, when I was sitting quite snug with nry 
mother, and she was occupied in writing to my 
sister who was absent from home, I spied at the end of 
the avenue a group of pedestrians slowly making up to 
Grumblethorpe Hall, apparently dressed in their best bibs 
and tuckers for a morning visit. Thinks I to myself, here 's 
some agreeable company coming to my dear mamma ! how 
kind it is of her neighbors to call in upon her thus, and 
not leave her to i^ope away her time by herself, as though 
she were buried alive ! 

2. Not being willing, however, to run any risk of dis- 
appointing her, I waited patiently till I saw them happily 
advanced beyond the turning to the village, and was, there- 
fore, certain that they were really coming to see my dear 
mother ; and then I hastily turned round to her, exclaim- 
ing, "Here's ever so many people coming, mamma," — 
thinking to delight her very heart. "People coming," 
says she ; " I hope not." " Yes, indeed, they are," says 'I ; 
" one, two, three, four ladies, a little boy, and two pug-dogs, 
I do declare ! " 

3. " Bless me," says my mother, " how provoking ! it is 
certainly Mrs. Fidget and her daughters, and that trouble- 
some child, and now I can't finish my letter to your sister 
before the post goes ! I heartily wish they would learn 
to stay at home, and let one have one's time to one's self ! " 

4. Thinks I to myself, my poor mother seems not much 
to like their coming ; I am afraid that Mrs. and the Misses 
Fidget will meet with rather an unkindly reception ; how- 
ever, I plainly saw that there was no stopping them, — 
they got nearer and nearer, — the walking was not over 
clean, and my mother was the neatest woman in the world. 
Thinks I to myself, the pug-dogs will dirty the room. 

5. At last they arrived ; the servant ushered them in ; 
sure enough, it was Mrs. and the Misses Fidget, and the 
troublesome child, and all. Mrs. Fidget ran up to my 



MORNING VISITS. 293 

mother as though she would have kissed her, so glad did 
she seem to see her. My mother (bless her, honest crea- 
ture !) rose from her seat, and greeted them most civilly. 
" This is very kind ■ indeed, Mrs. Fidget," says she, " and I 
esteem it a great favor. I had no idea you would have 
walked so far ; I am delighted to see yon." 

6. Miss Fidget assured her she might take it as a par- 
ticular favor, for she had not done such a -thing, she be- 
lieved, for the last six months, and she would never have 
attempted it now to visit anybody else 1 

7. Thinks I to myself, then, Mrs. Fidget, you have lost 
your labor. " And now," says she, " how I am to get home 
•again I am sure I cannot tell, for I am thoroughly used 
up." Thinks I to myself, my dear mother won't much like 
to hear that ; but I was mistaken, for, turning to Mrs. 
Fidget, she said with the greatest marks of complacency, 
" That 's good hearing for us ; then we shall have the 
pleasure of your company to dinner. Mr. Dermot will be 
delighted when he comes home to find you all here." 

8. " 0, you are very good," says Mrs. Fidget, " but I must 
return, whether I can walk or not; only I fear I must 
trouble you with a longer visit than may be agreeable." 
" The longer the better," says my dear mother. Thinks I 
to myself, that 's a bouncer ! 

9. While my mother and Mrs. Fidget were engaged in 
this friendly and complimentary conversation, the Misses 
Fidget were lifting up the little boy to a cage in which my 
mother's favorite canary-bird hung, and the boy was sedu- 
lously poking his fingers through the wires of the cage, to 
the great alarm and annoyance of the poor little animal. 

10. Thinks I to myself, my mother will wish you behind 
the fire presently, young gentleman ; but no such thing, for 
just at that moment she turned round, and, seeing how he 
was occupied, asked if the cage should be taken down to 
amuse him. 

11. " He is a sweet boy, Mrs. Fidget ; how old is he ? ,s 
"Just turned of four," says Mrs. Fidget. " Only four/' 



294 THE FIFTH READER. 

says my mother ; " he is a remarkably fine, strong boy for 
that age ! " " He is indeed a fine child/' says Mrs. Fidget ; 
" but don't, my dear, do that," says she, " you frighten the pool 
bird." As the Misses Fidget were about to put him down, 
mother ventured to assure them that he would do no harm. 
" Pretty little fellow," says she, " pray let him amuse himself." 

12. Mrs. Fidget being rested, they all prepared to go 
My mother, however, urged that if they would but stay a 
little longer, my father would be home from his ride, and 
he would be greatly mortified to miss seeing them; but 
nothing would do, — go they must. 

13. Thinks I to myself, now a fig for your friendship, 
Mrs. Fidget. What ! not stay when my mother so ear- 
nestly presses it ! Not stay when she declares your going 
will mortify my worthy father ! No ; nothing would stop 
them. Away they went. Not, indeed, without sundry 
promises on their part soon to call again, and divers most 
earnest entreaties on my mother's on no account to forget it. 

14. They were scarcely out of the front door before 
my father entered. " Are they really all gone at last ? " 
says he ; " I thought they would have stayed till doomsday. 
Who in the world were they all ? " " dear," says my 
mother ; " why, Mrs. Fidget and all her tribe, — girls and 
boy, and two pug-dogs." " Thank my stars I escaped 
them ! " says my father. Thinks I to myself, great symp- 
toms of mortification my dear father shows at having had 
the misfortune to miss seeing them. 

15. "I declare," says my mother, " it is abominable to 
break in upon one in this manner ; it was impossible to 
entertain such a group, for while Mrs. Fidget and I were 
engaged in conversation, her young people and the dogs 
had nothing to do but to tease the bird and dirty the furni- 
ture. That little monkey of a boy is always in mischief, 
I could freely have boxed his ears for him. I thought he 
would have killed my poor bird. I think she 11 lose that 
boy ; I never saw such a puny, sickly-looking child in all 
my life." Thinks I to myself, poor Mrs. Fidget ; fine 
Stout boy of its age I Dr. Naves- 



THE HUNTERS. 



295 




CXX. — THE HUNTERS. 



IN the bright October morning 
Savoy's Duke had left his bride. 
From the Castle, past the drawbridge, 
Flowed the hunters' merry tide. 



Steeds are neighing, gallants glittering. 

Gay, her smiling lord to greet, 
Froin her mullioned chamber casement 

Smiles the Duchess Marguerite. 



296 THE FIFTH READER. 

in. 

From Vienna by the Danube 

Here she came, a bride, in spring. 

Now the autumn crisps the forest ; 
Hunters gather, bugles ring. 

IV. 

Hark ! the game 's on foot, they scatter \ 
Down the forest ridings lone, 

Furious, single horsemen gallop. 

Hark ! a shout — a crash — a groan ! 

v. 
Pale and breathless, came the hunters 3 

On the turf, dead lies the boar, 
But the Duke lies stretched beside him, 

Senseless, weltering in his gore. 

VI. 

In the dull October evening, 

Down the leaf-strewn forest road, 

To the Castle, past the drawbridge, 
Came the hunters with their load. 

VII. 

In the hall, with sconces blazing, 
Ladies waiting round her seat, 

Clothed in smiles, beneath the dais 
Sat the Duchess Marguerite. 

VIII. 

Hark ! below the gates unbarring ! 

Tramp of men and quick commands ! — 
" 'T is my lord come back from hunting.' 2 ' 

And the Duchess claps her hands. 

IX. 

Slow and tired, came the hunters \ 
Stopped in darkness in the court. — 

" Ho, this way, ye laggard hunters ! 

To the hall ! What sport, what sport J" 



LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM. 297 

x. 

Slow they entered with their Master ; 

In the hall they laid him down. 
On his coat were leaves and blood-stains. 

On his brow an angry frown. 

XI. 

Dead her princely youthful husband 

Lay before his youthful wife ; 
Bloody "neath the flaring sconces : 

And the sight froze all her life. 

XII. 

In Vienna by the Danube 

Kings hold revel, gallants meet. 
Gay of old amid the gayest 

Was the Duchess Marguerite. 

XIII. 

In Vienna by the Danube 

Feast and dance her youth beguiled. _ 

Till that hour she never sorrowed ; 

But from then she never smiled. 

Matthew Arnold. 



CXXL— LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM. 

FROM life without freedom, say, who would not fly ? 
For one day of freedom, 0, who would not die 1 
Hark ! — hark ! 't is the trumpet ! the call of the brave, 
The death-song of tyrants, the dirge of the slave, 
Our country lies bleeding, — haste, haste to her aid ; 
One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade. 

In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains, — 
The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains. 
On, on to the combat ! the heroes that bleed 
For virtue and mankind are heroes indeed. 
And 0, even if freedom from this world be driven, 
Despair not, — at least we shall find her in Heaven. 

T. Moore- 



298 THE FIFTH READER. 

CXXII — THE IRISH-DISTURBANCE BILL. 

I DO not rise to fawn or cringe to this house. I do not 
rise to supplicate you to be merciful towards the na- 
tion to which I belong, — towards a nation which, though 
subject to England, yet is distinct from it. It is a distinct 
nation ; it has been treated as such by this country, as 
may be proved by history, and by seven hundred years of 
tyranny. 

. 2. I call upon this house, as you value the liberty of 
England, not to allow the present nefarious bill to pass. 
In it are involved the liberties of England, the liberty 
of the press, and of every other institution dear to Eng- 
lishmen. 

3. Against the bill I protest in the name of this Irish 
people, and in the face of Heaven. I treat with scorn the 
puny and pitiful assertions that grievances are not to be 
complained of, that our redress is not to be agitated ! for, in 
such cases, remonstrances cannot be too strong, agitation 
cannot be too violent, to show to the world with what in- 
justice our fair claims are met, and under what tyranny the 
people suffer. 

4. There are two frightful clauses in this bill. The one 
which does away with trial by jury, and which I have called 
upon you to baptize : you call it a court-martial, — a mere 
nickname ; I stigmatize it as a revolutionary tribunal. 
What, in the name of Heaven, is it, if it is not a revolution- 
ary tribunal ? 

5. It annihilates the trial by jury ; it drives the judge 
from his bench, — the man who, from experience, could 
weigh the nice and delicate points of a case ; who could dis- 
criminate between the straightforward testimony and the 
suborned evidence ; who could see, plainly and readily, the 
justice or injustice of the accusation. 

6. It turns out this man who is free, unshackled, un- 
prejudiced; who has no previous opinions to control the 
clear exercise of his duty. You do away with that which 



THE IRISH-DISTURBANCE BILL. 299 

is more sacred than the throne itself, — that for which your 
king reigns, your lords deliberate, your commons as- 
semble. 

7. If ever I doubted before of the success of our agita- 
tion for repeal, this bill, this infamous bill, the way in 
which it has been received by the house, the manner in 
which its opponents have been treated, the personalities to 
which they have been subjected, the yells with which one 
of them has this night been greeted, — all these things dis- 
sipate my doubts, and tell me of its complete and early 
triumph. 

8. Do you think those yells will be forgotten ? Do you 
suppose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured 
and insulted country ; that they will not be whispered in 
her green valleys, and heard from her lofty hills ? 

9. 0, they will be heard there ! Yes ; and they will not 
be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bound with indig- 
nation : they will say, " We are eight millions ; and you 
treat us thus, as though we were no more to your country 
than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey ! " 

10. I have done my duty ; I stand acquitted to my con- 
science and my country ; I have opposed this measure 
throughout ; and I now protest against it as harsh, oppres- 
sive, uncalled for, unjust, — as establishing an infamous 
precedent by retaliating crime against crime, — as tyran- 
nous, cruelly and vindictively tyrannous. 

Daniel (JConnell. 

EXERCISE. 

1. I do not rise to fawn or cringe to this house. 

2. I do not rise to supplicate you to be merciful. 

3. I call upon you not to allow this nefarious bill to pass. 

4. I treat with scorn the puny and pitiful assertions that grievances 
are not to be complained of. 

5. I stigmatize it. [Set a mark of disgrace upon.] 

6. That man could discriminate between the straight forward testi- 
mony and the suborned evidence. 

7. All these things dissipate my doubts. 

8. I have opposed this measure throughout. 

9. Tt is harsh, oppressive^ uncalled foi\ uyjitsl. 



300 THE FIFTH READER. 

CXXIIL — KING CANUTE. 

i. 

KING CANUTE was weary-hearted ; he had reigned foi 
years a score, 
Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and rob- 
bing more ; 
And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild sea- 
shore. 

ii. 

On that day a something vexed him, that was clear to old and 

young : 
Thrice his Grace had yawned at table when his favorite gleemen 

sung. 
Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he bade her hold 

her tongue. 

in. 
" Something ails my gracious master," cried the Keeper of the 

Seal. 
" Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served at dinner, or the 

veal 1 " 
"Pshaw !" exclaimed the angry monarch. " Keeper, 't is not that 

I feel. 

IV. 

"'T is the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my rest 

impair : 
Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know no care ? 
0, I 'm sick, and tired, and weary." Some one cried, " The 

King's arm-chair ! " 

v. 

Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my Lord the Keeper 
nodded, 

Straight the King's great chair was brought him, by two foot- 
men able-bodied. 

Languidly he sank into it ; it was comfortably wadded 

VI. 

" Ah, I feel," said old King Canute, " that my enH is drawing 
near." 



KING CANUTE. 301 

11 Don't say so," exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to squeeze 

a tear). 
" Sure your Grace is strong and lusty, and may live this fifty 

year." 

VII. 

u Live these fifty years ! " the Bishop roared with actions made 

to suit. 
" Are yon mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak of King 

Canute ! 
Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his Majesty will 

do't. 

VIII. 

" With his wondrous skill in healing ne'er a doctor can compete, 
Loathsome lepers, if he touch them, start up clean upon their 

feet ; 
Surely he could raise the dead up, did his Highness think it 

meet. 

IX. 

" Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the hill, 
And, the while he slew the foeman, bid the silver moon stand 

still 1 
So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his sacred will." 

x. 

" Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop]" Canute cried ; 
" Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly ride % 
If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command the tide. 

XL 

" Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the 

sign ? " 
Said the Bishop, bowing lowly, " Land and sea, my lord, are 

thine." 
Canute turned towards the ocean. " Back! "he said, "thou 

foaming brine. 

XII. 

" From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to retreat ; 
Venture not, thou stormy rebel, to approach thy master's seat : 
Ocean, be thou still ! I bid thee come not nearer to my feet ! " 



302 THE FIFTH HEADER. 

XIII. 

But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper roar, 
And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling, sounding on the 

shore ; 
Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the King and courtiers 

bore. 

XIV. 

iVnd he sternly bade them nevermore to bow to human clay, 
But alone to praise and worship That which earth and seas obey • 
And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day. 

Thackeray. 



CXXIV. — THE FATE OF EUROPEAN KINGS. 

I WAS one evening on the Ohio, when the river had 
been swollen with recent rains. The current was 
passing quickly, but with the placidity which reminded 
me of the old proverb, that " smooth water runs deep." It 
was early in May. The sky was pale. Thin clouds, with 
softened outline, and mingling gently with one another, 
were moving toward the north. There was something in 
the air, which, if not vivifying, if not genial, was quieting. 

2. From the various incidents that were going on in 
the boat about me, and the varying features of the scene 
through which we were gliding, I turned to one object, 
which, far more forcibly than the rest, attracted my atten- 
tion. It was a sycamore, — a noble-looking tree ; noble in 
its proportions, noble in its profusion, noble in its promise. 

3. The birds were in it, on its topmost branches, striking 
out their wings, and uttering their quick notes of joy. 0, 
with what a sweet thrill came forth the liquid song from 
that waving, sparkling foliage ! and how confident it made 
the looker-on, that the tree from which it gushed in a 
thousand mingling streams would stand, and flourish, and 
put forth its beauty, and rejoice in the fragrant breath of 
the summer, and stoutly defy the shock of the winter, for 
years to come ! 



THE FATE OF EUROPEAN KINGS. 303 

4. It was a dream. I looked downward ; the roots were 
stripped. The earth had been loosened from them, and 
they glistened like bones, w 7 hitened, as they were, with the 
water which tumbled through them, and about them, and 
over them. One hold alone it seemed to have. But the 
sleepless element was busy upon that. Even while I 
looked, the soft mold slipped in flakes from the solitary 
stay which held the tree erect. 

5. There it stood, full of vigor, of beauty, of festive 
life ; full of promise, with a grave, perhaps fathoms deep, 
opened at its feet. The next flood, and the last link must 
give way. And down must come that lord of the forest, 
with all his honors, with all his strength, with all his mirth ; 
and the remorseless river shall toss him to the thick slime, 
and then fling him up again, tearing his tangled finery, and 
bruising and breaking his proud limbs, until, two thousand 
miles below, on some stagnant swamp, tired of the dead 
prey, the wild pursuer, chafed and foaming from the chase, 
shall cast a shapeless log ashore. 

6. " Such," said I, " shall be the fate of the European 
kings." It is now summer with them. Bright leaves are upon 
the tree, and life and song are among them ; but death is 
at the root. The next flood, and the proud lord shall be 
overthrown, and the waters shall bear him away ; and when 
they have stripped him of his finery, they shall fling him 
in upon the swamp to rot. Such shall be the fate of the 
European kings, European aristocracies, European despo- 
tisms. Who will lament it ? Who would avert it ? 

7. What though it is now summer with the kings ? 
What though the evil ones have been exalted, and the per- 
jured have been named holy, and the blood of the people 
is mixed with the wine of princes, and illuminations be- 
wilder the memory of those who mourn, and the reign of 
the wicked is a jubilee, and his powder supreme ? What 
recks it ? It shall pass as the dream of the drunkard, as 
the crown of pride from the drunkard of Ephraim. 

T. F. Meagher. 



304 THE FIFTH READER. 

CXXV .— COLUMBUS. 

i. 

HOW in the world did Columbus get over. 
Is a pure wonder to nie, I protest, — 
Cabot, and Raleigh too, that well-read rover, 
Frobisher, Dampier, Drake and the rest. 
Bad enough all the same, 
For them that after came, 
But, in great Heaven's name, 
How he should ever think 
That on the other brink 
Of this wild waste terra firma should be, 
Is a pure wonder, I must say, to me. 

ii. 
How a man ever should hope to get thither, 

E'en if he knew there was another side ! 
But to suppose he should come any whither. 
Sailing straight on into chaos untried, 
In spite of the motion, 
Across the whole ocean, 
To stick to the notion 
That in some nook or bend 
Of a sea without end, 
He should find North and South America, 
Was a pure madness, indeed I must say. 

in. 
What if wise men had, as far back as Ptolemy, 

Judged that the earth like an orange was round, 
None of them ever said, " Come along, follow me ; 
Sail to the West, and the East will be found." 
Many a day before 
Ever they 'd come ashore, 
Sadder and wiser men 
They 'd have turned back again ; 
And that he did not, but did cross the sea, 
Is a pure wonder, I must say to me. 

Arthur Hugh Cloughty* 



CLARIBEL. 305 

CXXVI. — CLARIBEL. 



THE cold gray day clung shivering to the dreary hills, 
While o'er the valley still, night's rain-fringed curtain fell ; 
But waking Blue Eyes smiled. " 'T is ever as God wills ! 
He knoweth best ; and be it rain or shine, 't is well. 
Praise God," said always little Claribel. 

ii. 

Then sank she on her knees, with eager lifted hands ; 
Her rosy lips made haste some dear request to tell : 
" Father, smile and save this fairest of all lands, 
And make her free, whatever hearts rebel. 
Amen ! Praise God," said little Claribel. 

in. 

" And, Father," then arose another pleading prayer, 
" save my brother, 'mid the rain of shot and shell : 
Let not the death- bolt, with its horrid streaming hair, 
Dash light from those sweet eyes I love so w x ell ! 
Praise God," said trembling little Claribel. 

IV. 

" But, Father, grant that when the glorious fight is done, 
And up the crimson sky the shouts of freemen swell, 
Grant that there be no nobler victor 'neath the sun, 
Than he whose golden hair I love so well. 
Amen ! Praise God," said little Claribel. 



When gray and dreary day shook hands with grayer night, 

The heavy air was thrilled with clangor of a bell ; 

" shout ! " the herald cried, his worn eyes brimmed with light. 

" 'T is victory ! what glorious news to tell ! " 

"Amen ! Praise God ! " cried little Claribel. 



306 THE FIFTH READER. 

VI. 

" And, herald, tell me, was my brother in the fight, 
And in the fiery rain 1 0, fought he brave and well 1 " 
" Dear child," the herald said, " there was no nobler sight 
Than his young form, so grand 'mid shot and shell." 
"Amen ! Praise God ! " sobbed little Claribel. 

VII. 

" And walks he now in victor's plumes of red, 
While trumpets' golden throats his coming steps foretell % " 
The herald dropped a tear. " Dear child," he softly said, 
" Thy brother evermore with conquerors shall dwell." 
" Praise God ! He heard my prayer," said Claribel. 

VIII. 

" With conquerors, we'aring crowns, and bearing palms," he said. 

A snow of sudden fear upon the rose lips fell. 

" sweetest herald, say my brother lives," she plead. 

" Dear child, he walks with angels, who in strength excel ; 

Praise God, who gave this glory, Claribel." 

IX. 

The cold gray day died sobbing on the weary hills, 

While bitter mourning on the night wind rose and fell ; 

" child," the herald said, " 't is as the dear Lord wills, 

He knoweth best, and be it life or death, 't is well." 

" Amen ! Praise God !" wept little Claribel. 

M, L. Parmelee. 



CXXVII.—MOBNING SOUNDS. 
i. 

BUT who the melodies of morn can tell 1 — 
The. wild brook, babbling down the mountain's side ; 
The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; 
The pipe of early shepherd, dim descried 
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide 
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; 
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ; 
The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, 
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. 



AN APPEAL TO ARMS. 307 

II. 
The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark ; 
Crowned with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings ; 
The whistling ploughman stalks afield ; and, hark ! 
Dow T n the rough slope the ponderous wagon rings ; 
Through rustling corn the hare astonished springs ; 
Slow T tolls the village clock the drowsy hoar ; 
The partridge bursts away on whirring wings ; 
Deep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower, 
And shrill lark carols from her aerial tower. 

James Bcattie. 



CXXVIIL — AN APPEAL TO ARMS. 

MR. PRESIDENT : It is natural for man to indulge 
in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our 
eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that 
siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part 
of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for 
liberty ? 

2. Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, 
having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things 
which so nearly concern their temporal salvation ? For 
my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am 
willing to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, and 
to provide for it. 

3. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided : 
and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of 
judging of the future but by the past. And, judging by 
the past, I wish to know what there has been in the con- 
duct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to jus- 
tify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased 
to solace themselves and the house ? 

4. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has 
been lately received ? Trust it not, sir ; it will prove a 
snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed 
with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception 
of our petition comports with those warlike preparations 
which cover our waters and darken our land. 



308 THE FIFTH HEADER 

5. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and 
reconciliation ? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to 
be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our 
love ? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the 
implements of war and subjugation, — the last arguments 
to which kinirs resort. 

6. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, 
if its purpose be not to force us to submission ? Can 
gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it ? Has 
Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to 
call for all this accumulation of navies and armies ? No, 
sir, she has none. They are meant for us ; they can 
be meant for no other. 

7. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those 
chains which the British ministry have been so long 
forging. And what have we to oppose to them ? Shall 
we try argument ? Sir, we have been trying that for the 
last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the 
subject ? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every 
light of which it is capable ; but it has been all in vain. 

8. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication ? 
What terms shall Ave find, which have not been already ex- 
hausted ? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves 
longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, 
to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have pe- 
titioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated; we 
have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have im- 
plored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the 
ministry and parliament. 

9. Our petitions have been slighted ; our remonstrances 
have produced additional violence and insult ; our suppli- 
cations have been disregarded ; and we have been spurned, 
with contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after 
these tilings, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and 
reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. 

10. If we wish to be free ; if we mean to preserve invi- 
olate those inestimable privileges for which we have been 



AN APPEAL TO ARMS. 309 

so Ions? contending ; if we mean not baselv to abandon the 
noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and 
which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until 
the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, — we 
must fight ! — I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! An appeal 
to arms, and to the God of hosts, is all that is left us. 

11. They tell us, sir, that we are weak, — unable to cope 
with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be 
stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? 
Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a 
British guard shall be stationed in every house ? 

12. Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction ? 
Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying 
supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom 
of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and 
foot ? 

13. Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of 
those means which' the God of nature hath placed in our 
power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause 
of Liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, 
are invincible by any force which our enemy can send 
against us. 

14. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. 
There is a just God, who presides over the destinies of 
nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles 
for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is 
to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we 
have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, 
it is now too late to retire from the contest. 

15. There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery! 
Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on 
the plains of Boston ! The war is inevitable, — and let 
it come ! — I repeat it, sir, let it come ! It is vain, sir, to 
extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, peace ! 
but there is no peace. The war is actually begun ! 

16. The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring 
to our ears the clash of resounding arms ? Our brethren are 



310 THE FIFTH READER. 

already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ? What is it 
that gentlemen wish ? what would they have ? Is life so 
dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of 
chains and slavery ? Forbid it, Almighty God. I know 
not what course others may take, but, as for me, give me 
liberty, or give me death ! Patrick Henry. 



CXXIX. — THE GRAY SWAM. 

i. 

" C\ SAIL0R > tel1 me > tel1 me true > 
Vy Is my little lad — my Elihu — 

A -sailing in your ship ] " 
The sailor's eyes were dimmed with dew. 
" Your little lad ? your Elihu 1 " 

He said with trembling lip ; 

" What little lad, — what ship 1 " 

ii. 
" < What little lad V — as if there could be 
Another such a one as he ! 

' What little lad,' do you say 1 
Why, Elihu, that took to the sea 
The moment I put him off my knee 

It was just the other day 

The Gray Swan sailed away." 

in. 
" The other day 1 " The sailor's eyes 
Stood wide-open with surprise. 

" The other day % — the Swan 1 " 
His heart began in his throat to rise. 
" Ay, ay, sir ; here in the cupboard lies 

The jacket he had on." 

" And so your lad is gone ! 

IV. 

11 But, m}' good mother, do you know 
All this was twenty years ago % 
I stood on the Gray Swan's deck, 



THE GRAY SWAN. 3H 

And to that lad I saw you throw — 
Taking it off, as it might be so — 

The kerchief from your neck." 

"Ay, and he '11 bring it back." 

v. 

" And did the little lawless lad, 

That has made you sick, and made you sad, 

Sail with the Gray Swarfs crew ] " 
" Lawless ! the man is going mad ; 
The best boy ever mother had ; 

Be sure, he sailed with the crew, — 

What would you have him do % " 

VI. 

"And he has never written line, 

Nor sent you word, nor made you sign, 

To say he was alive ? " 
"Hold, — if 't was wrong, the wrong is mine; 
Besides, he may be in the brine ; 

And could he write from the grave ? 

Tut, man ! what would you have 1 " 

VII. 

" Gone twenty years ! a long, long cruise ; 
'T was wicked thus your love to abuse ; 

But if the lad still live, 
And come back home, think you you can 
Forgive him 1 " " Miserable man ! 

You 're mad as the sea ; you rave, — 

What have I to forgive '] " 

VIII. 

The sailor twitched his shirt of blue, 

And from within his bosom drew • 

The kerchief. She was wild : 
" My God ! — my Father ! — is it true % 
My little lad — my Elihu % 
And is it — is it — is it you % 

My blessed boy — my child — 

My dead — my living child ! " 

Alice Cary 



312 THE FIFTH READER. 

CXXX. — "PEJSSS ON." 

THIS is a speech, brief, but full of inspiration, and 
opening the way to all victory. The mystery of 
Napoleon's career was this, — under all difficulties and 
discouragements, " Press on ! " It solves the problem of 
all heroes ; it is the rule by which to weigh rightly all 
wonderful successes and triumphal marches to fortune and 
genius. It should be the motto of all, old and young, 
high and low, fortunate and unfortunate, so called. 

2. " Press on ! " Never despair ; never be discouraged, 
however stormy the heavens, however dark the way ; how- 
ever great the difficulties, and repeated the failures, " Press 
on!" 

3. If fortune has played false with thee to-day, do thou 
play true for thyself to-morrow. If thy riches have taken 
wings and left thee, do not weep thy life away ; but be up 
and doing, and retrieve the loss by new energies and action. 
If an unfortunate bargain has deranged thy business, do 
not fold thy arms, and give up all as lost ; but stir thyself 
and work the more vigorously. 

4 If those whom thou hast trusted have betrayed thee, 
do not be discouraged, do not idly weep, but " Press on ! " 
find others ; or, what is better, learn to live within thyself. 
Let the foolishness of yesterday make thee wise to-day. 

5. If thy affections have been poured out like water in 
the desert, do not sit down and perish of thirst, but press 
on ; a beautiful o'asis is before thee, and thou inayst reach 
it if thou wilt. If another has been false to thee, do not 
thou increase the evil by being false to thyself. Do not 
say the world hath lost its poetry and beauty ; 't is not so ; 
and even if it be so, make thine own poetry and beauty by 
a brave, a true, and above all a religious life. 



Explanatory Notes. 



Page 38. — John Gr. Whittier, one of the foremost of American 
poets, was born at Haverhill, Mass., in 1808. His early education was 
acquired at home, where until his eighteenth year he worked on the 
farm. He then spent two years in study at the town academy. At the 
age of twenty-two he became editor of a newspaper, and has spent most 
of his life since in literary pursuits. His verse is distinguished by vigor 
and a certain moral sweetness. Some of his best poems were written 
in behalf of universal freedom. Among his best known pieces are 
"Maud Muller," "Barbara Frietchie" and "Snow-Bound." 

Page 1^6. — Jacob Abbott, a popular writer of books for children, 
was born at Hallowell, Maine, in 1803. His "Kollo Books" have de- 
lighted and instructed two generations of children, and, together with 
many of his other writings, have been translated into European lan- 
guages. He died in 1880. 

Page Ifi. — George III. was the king of England at the time when the 
people of the North American Colonies determined to govern themselves. 
A war took place between the Colonies and England, which is called the 
Revolutionary War, or the Revolution. 

Page 53.— Queen Elizabeth was the daughter of King Henry 
VIII., and the half-sister of Mary, who was queen before her. She was 
a great sovereign, and governed England very wisely through a long 
reign. 

Sir Walter Raleigh was born in England in 1552, and was be- 
headed, having been wrongfully convicted of treason, in 1618. He was 
a brave soldier, an adventurous explorer and a wise writer. 

Page 5^. — Louis XVI., king of France, was born in 1754, and 
ascended the throne at the age of 20. It was during his reign that the 
French people, driven to desperation through poverty, hunger and op- 
pression, revolted, and took the government into their own hands. Then 
followed the fearful scenes of anarchy and bloodshed known as the 

312 



314 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 

French Revolution. Louis XVI. was thrown into prison ; and his igno- 
rance or indifference to the wants of the people was denominated treason, 
for which he was beheaded at the age of 39. 

Page 57. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born in Port- 
land, Me., in 1807. He is the most popular of American poets, and his 
writings are almost universally read in England. For many vears he 
was professor of Belles-Lettres in Harvard College. 

Page 60. — George William Curtis was born in Providence, R. L, 
in 1824. He is distinguished as a scholar and a forcible and elegant 
writer. He is the author of " The Potiphar Papers/' "Trumps," a novel, 
and of many essays and lectures. 

Page 63. — Quebec is a city on the river St. Lawrence, in Canada, and, 
Montreal excepted, is the largest city in British North America. Its 
inhabitants are mostly of French descent. 

The Heights of Abraham is the name given to an elevation near 
Quebec. 

Page 64. — Samuel G-. Goodrich, better known as Peter Parley, 
born at Ridgefield, Conn., in 1793, was a famous writer of books for 
children. His books conveyed much useful knowledge in the form of 
agreeable and interesting stories. Of his Geography for Beginners three 
million copies were soldo He died in 1863. 

Page 66. — James Merrick, an English clergyman, was born in 
1720, and died in 1769. 

Page 67. — The Housatonic is a river in Connecticut. 
Sevastopol, a Russian fortress situated on an inlet of the Black 

Sea. 

Page 69.— Greylock is a high mountain in Berkshire county, Mass. 

The Barometer is an instrument used for determining the pressure 
of the atmosphere, the state of which indicates the coming weather. 

Henry Ward Beecher, perhaps the most famous preacher of his 
day, was born at Litchfield, Conn., Jan. 24, 1813. He was the son of 
Rev. Dr. Lyman Beecher, and the brother of Harriet Beecher Stowe. 
In 1847 he became pastor of the Plymouth Church, in Brooklyn, N. Y., 
and still holds that position. He was a dull boy, and gave no promise 
of future eminence, but he now wields a greater influence than any other 
clergyman in the country. 

Page 72. — Henry Knox was born in Boston in 1750. He fought 
through the Revolutionary war, and became general of artillery. He 
was one of Washington's most trusted friends. He died in 1806. 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 315 

Page 7^.— Nathaniel Hawthorne was born in Salem, Mass., in 
1804. He graduated at Bowdoin College in 1825, Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow and President Pierce being members of his class. He early 
turned his attention to literature; but his first efforts received little 
encouragement. In 1850 his " Scarlet Letter n was published and at once 
made him famous. By that book, " The House of the Seven Gables," 
"The Marble Faun" and "Our Old Home" — a series? of sketches of 
English subjects — his title to the first place among American writers of 
romance was amply confirmed. His "Twice-Told Tales" and "Mosse* 
from an Old Manse" are especially attractive to young readers. He 
died at the age of 59. 

Page 76.-Thom.SbS Bailey Aldrich, an American poet, born at 
Portsmouth, N. H., 1836. 

Page 77. — Victor Hugo is a famous French novelist. In one of 
his books, "Les Miserables," he describes the passage of a fugitive 
through the sewers of Paris. 

Page 82. — Sherwood was a vast forest in England, frequented, 
according to tradition, by Eobin Hood and his men, a romantic band 
of robbers. 

Page 81*. — Robert Dodsley, a bookseller, was born near Mansfield, 
England, in 1709. He wrote several tragedies, and was the friend of Dr. 
Johnson and other eminent literary men. 

Rev. Richard Chenevix Trench, an eminent English divine 
and writer, was born in 1807. 

Page 85. — Robert Bruce, king of Scots, was born in 1274. He 
waged war for many years against the English, who claimed the sove- 
reignty of Scotland. He died in 1329. 

Page 86.— Lord James of Douglas and Edward Bruce were 
two friends of King Robert Bruce. 

Page 89. — "Dexter" was a famous trotting horse. 

Pegasus is the fabled steed which poets were supposed to ride when 
composing verses. 

Seven-league boots have existence only in fairy stories. They 
were said to enable their wearer to walk at prodigious speed. 

Page 91. — Richard S. S. Andros was a native of Berkley, Mass. 
He wrote a few poems of marked merit. 

Page 95. — Malibran, a famous singer and actress, was born in Paris, 
in 1808, and died in 1836. 



316 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 

Page 100.— J. T. Trowbridge is a native of Monroe county, N. Y., 
and was born in 1827. He wrote "Neighbor Jack wood," " The Vaga- 
bonds," etc., and many popular stories for young readers, among which 
are the " Brighthope " and "Jack Hazard" series. 

Page 101. — Cologne, a perfumed liquid, so named because it was 
originally made in Cologne, Germany. 

Page 102. — Macbeth is one of Shakespeare's plays. 
Banquo is the name of a character in the same, whose ghost is sr 
posed to appear. 

Page 103. — Louisa M. Alcott. one of the most popular writers of 
the day, is a native of Concord, Mass., and the daughter of A. Bronsor 
Alcott. She is the author of " Little Women," " Little Men," " An Old- 
Fashioned Girl," etc., which have had a wide circulation, and are uni- 
versally admired for their brightness and naturalness. 

Charles Mackay, a British author, was born at Perth in 1812, 
He has published several volumes of poems and songs, some of which 
have attained great popularity. 

Page 105. — James Anthony Froude, the historian, was born in 
Devonshire, England, in 1818, and graduated at Oxford University. His 
"History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Death of Eliza- 
beth" is a work of great merit. 

Page 107.— Lord Cornwallis commanded the British army that 
surrendered to Gen. Washington at Yorktown, Va., in October, 1781. 
With this event the Revolutionary war ended. 

Page 108. — "William Wirt, a distinguished lawyer and statesman, 
was born at Bladensburg, Md., in 1772. He was Attorney-General of 
the United States from 1817 to 1829. His principal literary work was 
the Life of Patrick Henry, one of the earliest and ablest American 
patriots. He died in 1834. 

Page 109. — " Pinta" and " Saint Maria" were the names of twe 
of Columbus's vessels. 

Castile is the name of a province which forms a part of the king* 
dom of Spain. 

Page 113.— James Gates Percival was born in Berlin, Conn., in 
1795. He was eminent in science and literature. 

Page ll^. — Theodore Hook, a novelist and wit, was born in London, 
in 1788. His contributions to literature were short-lived, and to-da;? 
are almost forgotten. He died in 1841. 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 317 

Page US. — Nebo is a mountain in Palestine. 

Jordan is a river of Asiatic Turkey, and forms the eastern boundary 
of Palestine. 

Page 119. — Eyry is the name of an eagle's nest. 

Cerla Frances Alexander is the wife of a clergyman residing a 
Strabane, in Ireland. She is the authoress of several beautiful hymns 
and sacred songs. 

Page 120. — George Bancroft, the historian, was born at Worcester, 
Mass., in 1800. His greatest work is a History of the United States in 
ten volumes, to the preparation of which he devoted more than thirty 
years of labor. 

Ethan Allen was a commander of American troops in the Kevolu- 
rionary war, and the captor of Ticonderoga, which was a fort on the 
west shore of Lake Champlain, in the State of New York. The once 
famous fortifications are now in ruins. 

Page 122. — Florence Fercy is the pen-name of Mrs. Elizabeth 
Akers Allen, a native of Maine. She is the author of "Rock me to 
Sleep, Mother, 5 ' and many other popular poems. 

Page 128. — Don Gomez was a minister of Spain at the time of 
Columbus's discovery of America in 1492. 

The Tagns is the principal river of Portugal. 

Page 121/,.— Genoa is a large seaport city in Italy. 

Vinet was one of the literary names of Epes Sargent, a Bostonian, 
best known as the compiler of an excellent series of school reading-books. 
He had also a reputation as a poet and novelist. He died in 1880. 

Page 125. — James Henry Leigh Hjint was born near London in 
1784. He was a genial poet and an able critic. He died in 1859. 

Page 128. — The Dee is a river in Scotland. 

Page 129. — Krilof, a celebrated writer of fables, was born in Kussk, 
in 1768, and died in 1844. 

Page 131. — Solomon was an ancient king noted for his wisdom. 

Dr. Samuel Johnson was a famous English author who lived in 
the last century. He compiled a Dictionary of the English language, 
and wrote many books, one of the best of which is " Kasselas." 

Hampstead is a suburb of London. 

Galileo was an astronomer who first discovered that the earth moved 
around the sun. 

Pisa is a city in Tuscany, Italy, famous for its Leaning Tower 



318 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 

Sir Samuel Brown was a celebrated civil engineer. 

The Tweed is a large river partly in England and partly in Scot- 
land, near the border line between the two countries. 

James "Watt, an Englishman, was born in 1736. He is generally 
credited with the invention of the steam-engine. He died in 1819. 

The Clyde is one of the principal rivers of Scotland. 

Page 132. — The Thames Tunnel is a passage-way constructed 
beneath the waters of the river Thames in London. 

Samuel Smiles is a native of Haddington, Scotland, and was born 
in 1816. He is the author of several very valuable books, including 
" Self-Help/' "Character," and "The Life of George Stephenson/' 

Page 133. — Fitz- James and Roderick are personages who figure 
in Sir Walter Scott's poem, "The Lady of the Lake." The former was 
the assumed name of the Scottish king. 

Page 135. — Richard H. Dana was born at Cambridge, Mass., in 
1815. In early life he was a sailor, and wrote a book called " Two 
Years Before the Mast," which is a very entertaining and instructive 
narrative of life at sea. 

Page 137. — Mrs. Felicia Hemans was born in Liverpool, Eng- 
land, in 1794. She wrote many poems of great and thoughtful beauty. 

Page 138.— Charles Sprague was born in Boston in 1791. He is 
best known as the author of an ode on Shakespeare, " The Winged Wor- 
shippers" and other poems. He died in 1875. 

Page 139. — Helvellyn is a mountain in Cumberland. It is one of 
the highest peaks in England. 

A lake is called a " tarn " in the Scottish highlands. 

Page 11^0. — William "Wordsworth, one of the greatest of English 
poets, was born in Cumberland, England, in 1770, and died in 1850. 

Page 11+5.— T. B. Aldrich. See note to page 76. The " Story of a 
Bad Boy," from which this extract is made, is an excellent book for the 
young. 

Page 150.— Horace Smith, a writer of humorous prose and verse, 
was born in London in 1780. He and his brother James wrote " .Rejected 
Addresses." 

Page 153.— Harriet Beecher Stowe was born at Litchfield, 
Conn., in 1812. She is the author of many books, the most famous of 
which is " Uncle Tom's Cabin." She is the daughter of Rev. Dr 
Lyman Beecher, and the sister of Henry Ward Beecher. 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 319 

Page 15J/.- William Tell was a Switzer (Swiss) patriot who resisted 
the Austrian tyrant Gesier. 

Page 156. — Murillo and Sebastian were famous painters of Seville, 
one of the chief cities of Spain. 

Page 162. — Ascott R. Hope is an Englishman, and a teacher oy 
profession. He has written several books, including "A Book about 
Boys" and "A Book about Dominies." 

Friedrich Adolf Krummacher, born in Westphalia, Germany^ 
in 1768, was a distinguished theologian, and wrote many religious poems 
for children. 

Page 16 Jf. — Fanny Fern (Sarah Payson Willis) was born in Port- 
land, Maine, in 1811, and died in 1873. She was a sister of N. P. Willis, 
the poet. She was twice married, her second husband being James Par- 
ton, the writer. She wrote " Fern Leaves," "Little Ferns/' "Kuth 
Hall," and other books, which have been very popular. 

Rev. John Pierpont was born in Litchfield, Conn., in 1785. He 
was first a lawyer, then a clergyman, was an active reformer, and a poet 
of good reputation. 

G-en. Joseph "Warren, an eminent patriot of the Kevolutionary 
war, was killed in the battle of Bunker Hill. This hill is in Charlestown, 
Mass. 

Page 165. — Edinburgh is the capital and most famous city in Scot- 
land. 

Jacobite was the name given the supporters of James, called the 
Pretender, who claimed the right to the throne of England in 1745. 

Holyrood House was in ancient times the principal royal edifice 
in Edinburgh. 

Page 168.— Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate of England, waa 
born in 1807. His " Idyls of the King" are esteemed his finest compo- 
sitions. 

Page 173. — Timothy S. Arthur was born in Newburg, N. Y., in 
1809, but for many years has lived in Philadelphia, He is a favorite 
among young readers as the author of " Lights and 'shadow* of Keal 
Life," " Tales for Kich and Poor," etc. 

Page 17 Jf. — Hartley Coleridge was the eldest son of the celebrated 
English poet and philosopher Samuel Taylor Coleridge. He wrote 
good verse and better prose. As a writer of verse he is best known by 
his sonnets, which are very highly esteemed. 

Page 175.—" The Thirty-nine Articles" was the name given to 



320 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 

the tenets, or points of belief, on which the organization of the Church 
of England was based. 

The " thirteen farms " refers to the thirteen States which originally 
constituted the American Union. 

Page 177.— James K. Paulding was born in Pawling, N. Y., in 
1779. He wrote poems and novels, and a Life of Washington. 

Page 178.— Miss Caroline F. Orne, a resident of Cambridge, Mass., 
has written a volume of poems called " Sweet Auburn, and other Poems." 

Page 179.— Thomas Wentworth Higginson, a native of Massa- 
chusetts, is one of the most cultivated and elegant of American writers. 
He is best known as an essayist, and is the author of " Out-Door Papers," 
"Atlantic Essays," etc. 

Ceylon is a large island in the Indian Ocean which belongs to Great 
Britain. Kandy is its principal seaport. 

Page 188.— Josiah Gilbert Holland, M. D., was born in Belcher- 
town, Mass., in 1819. He has written a good deal over the assumed 
name of " Timothy Titcomb.' , Among his books are " Bitter-Sweet," a 
poem, and a " Life of Abraham Lincoln." 

Page 186.— Thomas Day was born in London in 1748, and died in 
1789. He was the author of many poems and stories, the best of which 
is "The History of Sanford and Merton," which has been read and ad- 
mired by many generations of children. 

Page 187. — Sheba was a kingdom in Asia, in Solomon's time, 
famous for its riches. 
The Talmud is the Jewish Bible. 

Page 189. — John G-. Saxe was born in Highgate, Vt., in 1816. 
He is the author of " Proud Miss McBride," and other humorous poems. 

Page 192.— George MacDonald is a native of Scotland, and a 
clergyman. He is a poet and novelist. Among his books are " David 
Elginbrod" and "Wilfrid Cumbermede." 

Page 195.— Thomas Hughes was born in Berkshire, England, 
in 1823. He is the author of "Torn Brown's School Days," one of 
the best books for boys ever written, and of "Tom Brown at Oxford." 

Rugby is a famous school in England, of which Dr. Arnold was 
formerly master. Leicester is a neighboring town. 

Page 205.-11. H. Newell ("Orpheus C. Kerr") (: 'v a New York 
journalist, and a writer of humorous prose and verse. »>■ 

Page 213—K.ing George— See note to page 48. 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 321 

Page 21J+. — Gen. Joseph Warren was an American patriot, born 
in Koxbury, Mass., in 1741, and killed in the battle of Bunker Hill, 
June 17, 1775. 

Samuel Adams (born 1722) and John Hancock (born 1737) 
were active promoters of the resistance to British tyranny which led to 
the Revolutionary war. 

The Old South is a church on Washington street, Boston. 

Page 217. — Samuel Burnham was born in New Hampshire, about 
1830, and graduated at Williams College. He wrote much for periodi- 
cals, but published no books. He died in 1873. 

Demosthenes, believed to be the greatest orator that ever lived, 
was born at Athens, Greece, b. c. 382. 

Philip, King of Macedon, waged long wars against Athens. 

Tully is one of the names of Cicero, the famous Roman orator, who 
was born 106 b. c. 

Catiline was a Roman noble (born 108 B. c.) who plotted against the 
government. 

Page 218.— "William Allen Butler was born in Albany, N. Y., in 
1825. He is the author of several satirical poems, the best known of 
which is " Nothing to Wear." 

Page 219. — Lexington, a town in Middlesex county, Mass., and 
twelve miles from Boston, was the scene of the first battle or skirmish in 
the Revolutionary war. 

Major Pitcairn commanded the British troops, and Capt. Parker 
the undisciplined farmers who confronted them. 

Page 221.— The story of David and Goliath, as told in the Bible, 
is familiar to all. 

Philistia was the country of Goliath, and Dagon was a god wor- 
shiped by his countrymen. 

Page 222. — Hannah More was born in England in 1745. She 
wrote plays, poems and essays. 

Page 226. — Charles Dickens, the most famous novelist of his 
time, was born at Portsmouth, England, in 1812, and died in 1870. He 
was the author of " The Pickwick Papers," " Oliver Twist/' " Nicholas 
Nickleby," "David Copperfield," etc. 

Page 231. — "Washington Irving' was born in New York city in 
1783. He was one of the earliest and one of the most distinguished of 
American a> A ors. His best-known books are " The Life of Christopher 
Columbus/' ' The Life of Washington," " Knickerbocker's History of 
New York," and "The Sketch Book." He died in 1S59. 

21 



322 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 

Logan was a Scotch clergyman, eminent as a poet, theologian and 
philosopher. He was born in 1748, and died in 1788. 

Platsea was a city of ancient Greece. In the year 479 b. c. it was 
the scene of a glorious victory won by the Greeks over the Persians. 

Page 282— Fitz- Greene Halleck was born in Guilford, Conn., in 
1790. He was one of the earliest American writers, and was very pop- 
ular in his day. 

The Suliotes were a tribe of Greeks who were active in their resist- 
ance to the Turks in the Greek war for independence. 

Bozzaris (pronounced Bot-sarMs or Boz-zar / -is) was their leader. 

Moslem is a name applied to the Turks, who are followers of Mo- 
hammed. 

Page 287.— Hans Christian Andersen was born in Funen, Den- 
mark, in 1805. He was one of the most gifted and successful of writers 
of books for the young. His " Wonder Stories " and u The Story of nry 
Life" are prime favorites with children. He died in 1875. 

Page 288.— Rev. James Hurdis was born in England in 1763 
He wrote "The Village Curate" and other poems. 

British fugitives were persons who, during the Revoliitionar) 
war, sympathizing with Great Britain, left the United States, and de 
sired to return at the close of the war. 

Page 2^0. — Patrick Henry, one of the first of American patriots, 
was born in Virginia in 1736. He was a great orator, and did much 
to encourage Americans in resistance to British tyranny. 

Page 2J/.6. — Janiculum was a gate in the wall of Rome. 

Consul. At one time the government of ancient Rome was vested 
in a consul, whose position was not unlike that of the President of the 
United States. 

Ramnian and Tatian were names applied to two different tribes 
of Romans. • 

Page 21ft. — Etruria was a region of Italy. 

Page 2^8. — Palatinus was the name of a hill. 
The Tiber is a river which flows through Rome. 

Page 249.— Thomas Babington Macaulay (afterward Baron 
Macaulay) was born in England in 1800. He was one of the greatest 
of English writers, was a poet, essayist and a historian. He died in 1859. 

Page 258.— Charles Swain, known as the " Manchester poet," was 
born in that city (England) in 1803. He wrote several volumes of 
poetry, the best of which is " Dryburgh Abbey." He died in 1874. 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 323 

Corn-wall is the name borne by a certain part of England, and 
Cornish is the adjective belonging to it, as Virginian is the adjective 
of Virginia. 

Page ^.—Thomas Carlyle was born in Scotland in 1795. He 
was one of the ablest and most famous writers of the century. His " His- 
tory of the French Revolution" and his " Life of Frederick the Great" 
are considered his best works. He died in 1881. 

Page 255. — Benjamin P. Shillaber is a native of Portsmouth, 
N. H., and a writer of humorous prose and verse. He is widely known 
as " Mrs. Partington." 

Page 259. — The Lively, Falcon and Cerberus were vessels of the 
British fleet which lay in the harbor during the battle of Bunker Hill. 

Col. Prescott was commander of the American troops, and Israel 
Putnam, afterward general, was an officer in the same action. 

Page 261. — Frederick S. Cozzens was born in New York in 1818. 
His principal contribution to literature was "The Sparrowgrass Papers." 

Page 262. — The Azores is the name given to a group of islands in 
the Atlantic Ocean. They are sometimes called the Western Islands. 

Page 264. — Joel T. Headley was born in Delaware county, N. Y., 
in 1814. He is the author of " Napoleon and his Marshals," a " Life 
of Oliver Cromwell," etc. 

Page 265. — Marmion and Douglas are characters in the poem of 
" Marmion," which treats of events in Scotland that immediately pre- 
ceded the famous battle of Flodden, in which the Scotch were defeated 
by the English. 

Tantallon was the castle of Douglas. 

Page 266. — Sir Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, in 
1771. He was one of the best writers of fiction that ever lived, and was 
also distinguished as a poet. He died in 1832. 

Page 27 Jf. — John Clare, son of a poor peasant, was born in England 
in 1793. He had no school education, but he wrote poems, chiefly in 
praise of nature, that have been warmly admired. 

Page 280.— Wm. E. Aytoun was born in' Scotland in 1813. He 
was a poet and critic. His best work is " Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers." 

Page 28Jf. — Fitz-James O'Brien, a native of Ireland, came to this 
country when quite young, and devoting himself to literature, became 
famous as a poet and writer of short stories. He was killed in battle 
during the war of the Eebellion. 



324 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 

Page 287.— The royal family who had occupied the French throne 
for hundreds of years before the French Revolution of 1793 were called 
Bourbons. After the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo one of them 
reiiscended the throne, and his return was called the Restoration. 

Page 289.— Joseph. C. Neal was born in Greenland, N. H., in 
1807, and died in 1847. He was the author of "Charcoal Sketches ,? 
and other humorous books. 

Page 290.— Gen. Robert B. Lee was commander-in-chief of the 
Confederate troops during the war of the Rebellion. 

Gen. Thomas J. Jackson (usually called " Stonewall") was one 
of his principal officers. 

Page 294—Hev. Edward Nares was born in London in 1762. 
His principal work was a novel called " Thinks I to Myself." 

Page 297.— Matthew Arnold, a son of Dr. Arnold of Rugby, was 
born in 1822. He is a poet and essayist. 

Thomas Moore was born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1799. He wrote a 
great number of poems, including " Irish Melodies" and " Lalla Rookh." 

Page 298. — The Irish Disturbance Bill was an act introduced in 
the British Parliament for the purpose of securing better order in Ire- 
land, where men were lawless and violent. 

Page 299. — Daniel O'Connell was a famous Irish patriot. 

Page 302.— William Makepeace Thackeray was born in Cal- 
cutta in 1811. He wrote several novels, "Vanity Fair," " Pendennis," 
etc., which rank among the best in the language. He died in 1833. 

Page 308.— Thomas Francis Meagher was born in Waterford, 
Ireland, in 1823. He came to the United States in 1852, and was a gen- 
eral in the Union army during the war of the Rebellion. 

Page 30J+.— Arthur Hugh Clough was born at Liverpool, Eng- 
land, in 1819. He was a poet of rare powers. He died in 1861. 

Sebastian Cabot, Francis Drake, Dampier and Frobisher 
were bold adventurers of the sixteenth century who crossed the Atlantic 
and visited America. 

Ptolemy was the earliest geographer. 

Page 307.— James Beattie was a Scottish poet, born in 1735. He 
was the author of "The Minstrel" and other poems. 

Page 311. — Alice Cary was born near Cincinnati, O., in 1822. She 
wrote much in prose and verse, and ranked among the best female poets 
of America. Her sister Phcebe also wrote poetry. 























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